A Bad Review
by Chelsie Dagger
Summary: Modern AU version of 'cooking fiasco'. This is the result of a bet between myself and ChelsieFan. Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Downton franchise...sadly.
1. Part One

The 'On Air' light went dark.

"Thanks, fellows." Charles Carson removed his headphones and pushed back from the microphone with a heavy sigh. He cast a rueful look to his broadcasting partner, Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham. He cast a darker look at their show's producer, Thomas Barrow. "Thanks a ton."

"We have to maintain our journalistic integrity, old boy," Robert chirped merrily.

"Journalistic integrity?" Charles questioned incredulously. "You own this station and almost every company that advertises on this station, not to mention most of Downton."

Robert shrugged as if to say _, How is that my fault?_ Charles turned his ire on the smugly smiling Thomas. "I told you I wasn't ready to review _'The Rose and Thistle'_."

"We had to fill the hour somehow," Thomas claimed insincerely.

"I could have filled the time," Charles growled. "I could give you four hours on wine varietals without any preparation."

"I'm sorry, you do want people to actually _listen_ to your show, don't you?"

"Don't worry, chap, she won't hold it against you," Robert insisted.

"If only I were so sure," Charles frowned.

-00-

 **One hour earlier on Radio Downton 97.2 FM…**

"Well, hopefully the Downton Oktoberfest committee learned their lesson last year," Robert opined.

"They assure me they did," Charles confirmed. "So don't be afraid to bring the family out for a rollicking weekend of Oompa bands and frothy steins."

"And speaking of goats…" Robert laughed, hitting a button to cue the sound of bleating. "Next on the Crawley and Carson Culinary Corner, Charles reviews the newest restaurant in Downton…"

"Actually, no, I won't be offering a review today," Charles interrupted. "I thought we could discuss the improved wine cellar at _'The Dog and Duck'_."

"Didn't you go to _'The Rose and Thistle'_ Thursday night?"

"Yes, but… there were… circumstances. I don't think it would be fair to review them based on that particular experience," Charles stammered. "I'm planning to go back this week and I'll have a review next Saturday."

"Circumstances? Nonsense, man, did you eat a meal there or not?"

"Yes, but it was their launch night and there are difficulties inherent to any opening night. I don't think it was indicative of the service one should expect in future, so I'm waiting," Charles explained. "Next week's review will include my notes from both experiences, which I think will be more balanced and will give our listeners a clearer picture."

"For those listeners out there who are confused by this little lover's tiff," Thomas broke in from the producer's booth. "According to our show plan, Mr. Carson was supposed to give us a review of _'The Rose and Thistle'_ , a new collaboration from local restaurateurs Elsie Hughes and Beryl Patmore."

"Their other properties in Yorkshire are _'Patmore's'_ in York and _'Hughes''_ in Harrogate," Robert added. "Both of those establishments have earned top ratings from Carson in the past. You must have had high hopes for this new offering, Charles."

"Yes, I did," Charles admitted. "Which is why I know that Thursday's experience was an anomaly."

"Full disclosure requires us to note that Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore are longtime friends with Mr. Carson and Mr. Crawley," Thomas interjected.

"That is true," Charles agreed. "I have known them for decades. The three of us have worked together at Downton right out of university and we were roommates in London long, long ago."

"Yes, I've known them both almost as long as Charles has. Elsie is a logistical genius almost as fastidious as our own Mr. Carson and Beryl…well…" Robert chuckled. "Let's just say that when it comes to keeping kitchen staff on their toes, she'd give Gordon Ramsay a run for his money."

"I'm sure she could teach even him a few new colorful phrases," Thomas added gleefully.

"Yes, she is very inventive," Charles allowed. "But, while Mrs. Patmore designed the menu at _'The Rose and Thistle'_ , she is not the executive chef there. That distinction belongs to her protégé, a Mrs. Daisy Mason. Unfortunately, Mrs. Mason had a family emergency and could not participate in opening night. Mrs. Hughes was left running both the front of the house and the kitchens."

"I shouldn't think that would be a problem for Elsie," Robert commented.

"In an established… establishment it wouldn't have been," Charles stammered. "An experienced staff working with a tried and true menu could weather a night without their leader in the kitchen. Still, I think it is unfair to judge a new restaurant when the executive chef is absent."

"They might have been better off closing their doors," Robert suggested.

"In retrospect, I dare say they wish they had," Charles admitted. "Even if it was their opening night. All told, Mrs. Hughes did remarkably well launching a restaurant without a chef! They served every table and no one paid for anything that was not up to standard."

"Sounds as if they gave out a lot of free food," Thomas snarked.

"Well, I hope those people, like myself, will use the money they saved to return and give _'The Rose and Thistle'_ another try," Charles said defiantly. "I know it will soon be up to the standards of their other two establishments. And I am not just saying that because I am friends with the proprietor."

"Let's be honest, old boy, I'd say you are more than _friends_ with Mrs. Hughes," Robert countered flippantly.

"We are _very good friends_ ," Charles stated stubbornly.

"Which is why I think it's important to give an honest review," Thomas chimed in before Charles could object. "Otherwise, it will seem that you are giving a friend a second chance as a favor."

"I will give an honest review next week, as promised," Charles claimed obstinately.

"Why don't you give us the review now and you can update it next week?" Robert prompted.

"They did launch. They knew you were there and they served you food, which makes them responsible for their product and open to criticism," Thomas argued. "I have your notes here… cold plates, dull knives, raw lamb chops, mismatched sides…"

"Where did you get those?" Charles demanded.

"Did you write that?" Robert pressed.

"Yes, but…"

"I've never known you to write something that wasn't true…"

"No, but…"

"Was the wine list at least up to snuff?" Robert said hopefully.

"Yes, the list is quite good, but they weren't serving," Charles admitted. "Their license had not cleared yet."

"It sounds like they opened before they were prepared," Thomas interjected.

"That's not like Elsie," Robert noted.

"Mrs. Hughes was more focused on the business side of things and the front of the shop. I believe she was prevented from securing the license by Mrs. Mason's unexpected departure," Charles explained with an air of exasperation. "To be fair, I have no idea the last time Mrs. Hughes ran a kitchen. Not recently, I would venture."

"Judging by the results, you mean?" Thomas clarified.

"There were some positive notes…" Charles said defensively.

"'Comfortable chairs and nice carpets,'" Thomas quoted. "I know that's what I look for in a restaurant."

"I was noting that the décor was very welcoming; relaxing without being boring; casual without being cheap," Charles critiqued. "And if you don't think having comfortable chairs is important for a restaurant…"

"You weren't impressed by the table linens," Thomas pressed. "'Table linens wrinkled and not properly starched; napkins uninspiring.'"

"Oh, I do like the crisp tablecloths with those sharp corners," Robert gushed.

"I'm sure the crisis in the kitchen took staff away from pressing the linens properly," Charles offered lamely. "Oh look, we're out of time for this week."

"Join us next week when Charles will give us an update on the saga of _'The Rose and Thistle'_ ," Robert teased.

The 'On Air' light went dark.

Outside the studio, Charles winced as he took out his phone to take it off mute. There was a message from Elsie. It only read ' _Call me'_ ; no punctuation.

 _That's a bad sign_ , Charles thought. He looked around and saw Thomas laughing and talking to the station manager, Sarah O'Brien. They both glanced his way and laughed even harder. This was not the ideal place from which to call Elsie.

Walking out to the parking garage, Charles worried over what he could say to Elsie. They'd been friends long enough that he didn't worry about her forgiving him. He did worry that his criticism might have hurt her. He had attacked her professionally, something she would take more seriously than if he had attacked her personally.

On top of everything, the uncertain status of their personal relationship complicated matters.

Charles sighed. _A very good friend, indeed._ This public argument could not have come at a worse time. Though things were going well between Charles and Elsie, it still wasn't clear what they were to each other. Twenty years earlier, in London, they'd been on again/ off again friends with benefits, but they both had careers to consider at the time.

 _And I was young and stupid,_ Charles remembered.

-00-

 **London, 1995**

"Moving back to Downton?" Elsie looked at him in shock. When they'd met in Yorkshire, all Charles Carson could talk about was escaping the county and making it big in London. They'd been here less than a year. Why was Charles giving up so quickly? That wasn't the man she knew.

"There's a good opportunity for me at the Abbey," he shrugged. "I'll be taking dad's position as butler." He couldn't tell her that his father had been forced into early retirement by the family palsy. He was needed to help his parents financially, which he could not accomplish tending bar in London. Robert's father, the then Earl of Grantham, was willing to take a chance on the young Carson for the benefit of the elder Carson. By inheriting his father's place as butler at the Crawley's ancestral estate, Downton Abbey, Charles could ensure that his parents could spend their retirement years in the home in which they'd lived since before Charles was born.

Charles and Elsie sat in silence as the room filled with the things they could not ask of each other. Charles could not ask Elsie to leave her new position at the Criterion and return to the North for him. Elsie could not ask Charles to give up any opportunities for her. After all, he had already accepted the position.

"Robert will be glad to have you back in the county," Elsie finally said.

"Yes, he reminded me that the house team could use a decent bowler," Charles replied dully. "He's promised to let me continue my hobby as a wine enthusiast."

Elsie knew wine was more than a hobby for Charles, but she wouldn't press him to tell more than he was prepared to share.

"Are you sure you'll be happy there?" She questioned. "That's what I want to know."

"Don't tell me you'll miss me," Charles tried to joke.

"I will," she answered immediately. "And it costs me nothing to say it."

"Thank you, that means a lot to me." He tried to smile, but Elsie could read the sadness in his soulful eyes.

"What is it, Charles?"

"You know that I care for you, Elsie," Charles began. Elsie nodded. "But I don't see either of us having time for a long distance relationship."

Elsie nodded again. "We barely have time for our relationship now, and we're roommates."

They both chuckled mirthlessly at this observation.

-00-

 **Downton 2016**

And that was where they'd left things. Charles returned north while Elsie and Beryl conquered London. They'd remained in contact, of course, and even met up every few years or so. When they did meet, they were immediately the best of friends and it was as though no time had passed. Throughout the years, they'd kept their relationship chaste to avoid any confusion, but Charles' heart broke at every parting.

Even after Elsie returned to Yorkshire two years earlier to open _'Patmore's'_ and _'Hughes''_ , their friendship remained platonic. Elsie was initially too busy with the restaurants to have time to socialize, but their mutual attraction had finally grown impossible to ignore. After an evening at Beryl's, Charles had driven Elsie home and they had shared a kiss. Elsie still had some suspicions that Beryl had orchestrated the evening hoping to give Charles and Elsie a much needed nudge.

Pleasantly surprised to find their interest returned, Charles and Elsie had agreed to postpone any serious dating until after the launch of _'The Thistle and Rose'_ when Elsie's time would become more available. Unfortunately, the restaurant had not launched to anyone's satisfaction.

Safely ensconced in his car, Charles took a deep breath before tapping Elsie's name on his phone. Three rings into the call Charles began to think she would not answer. He was about to hang up when he heard her voice.

"Hello." Her voice was flat, but not necessarily hostile.

"Hello," he answered, matching her neutral tone. "I take it you heard?"

"I did."

"You said you don't listen to our show," Charles reminded her somewhat playfully.

"I don't, but Beryl called me and told me to turn it on," Elsie snipped. "She said you were bad mouthing our latest venture."

"So you only heard the end?"

"I heard enough."

"I tried to get out of it, but Thomas and Robert kept pushing."

"Did you have to say such terrible things?"

"Nothing I said was untrue. I could hardly lie. The meal was…"

"Rubbish, you can say it; 'the meal was rubbish'."

"It was not up to your usual standards," he said diplomatically.

She did not try to deny it. "Perhaps, but I do not appreciate having four months of hard work negated because of one night. It's even worse when the person throwing you under the bus is…a very good friend."

"Must we have this conversation over the phone?" Charles pouted. "Wouldn't you rather yell at me in person?"

"Come to mine tonight," Elsie said shortly. "I don't like yelling at people in public."

"Another reason I like you better than Beryl," Charles quipped. "I'll see you tonight."

Elsie hung up before he could hear her laugh. "Daft man," she smiled to herself.

Just then, Beryl came bustling into Elsie's office. "I'm going to wring his neck, that blighter!"

"Calm down, Beryl, I'll handle Charles," Elsie assure her business partner. "Unfortunately, none of what he said was untrue. Let's fix that today and I'll fix Charles tonight."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Just a little life lesson," Elsie smirked.

TBC...

* * *

 **AN/ This is part one of two. I will post the second part next week as a small contribution to the unofficial Series7.**


	2. Part Two

**Later that evening…**

"I've brought your favorite," Charles said in a voice he hoped sounded cheerful and confident. He held out a dusty bottle of French Bordeaux as a peace offering.

Elsie greeted him with a droll smile that said _You'll have to do better than that, but it's a start._

What she said audibly was, "Wonderful, I'll have something nice to sip on while you're cooking."

"While _I'm_ cooking?" Charles questioned. He felt the start of a panic attack coming on.

"Yes, I've decided that your apology will be that you cook me dinner with your own fair hand."

"There's a threat in there somewhere," Charles muttered to himself in confusion.

"The catch is that I shall be critiquing you." Elsie pointed the way back to the kitchen. "It's called poetic justice."

"Elsie, you know I don't cook," Charles blustered. "It's a blessing I became a food critic; I eat out practically every night."

"So it's a case of those who can't do, judge?" Elsie asked bitterly. "How exactly did a country butler become such an authority on food?"

Charles looked a little hurt by her question. He thought she was well acquainted with his career path. He certainly knew every detail of her road to success.

"I know you're a celebrated wine expert," Elsie allowed, which made Charles feel a little better. He could not resist puffing his chest proudly just a little.

Elsie did in fact know all about Charles' rise to the heights of oenology. It began a few years after Charles became butler, when the elder Earl died. After Robert became Earl of Grantham, he granted Charles free rein over the cellars. Charles spent free weekends traveling to wineries all over Europe in search of the perfect wines with which to populate the Downton wine portfolio.

While mindful of the family's tastes, Charles also looked for unique and overlooked vintages. He frequented estate sales and bought crates of wines for a fraction of their worth. In addition to his persistence, it turned out that Charles had a gift for anticipating trends in the wine world. He made shrewd investments and soon the value of the wines the estate possessed far outstripped the money expended. Without setting out to do so, Charles built the Downton wine cellar into the envy of Europe and one of Downton's greatest assets.

Over a decade ago, the Downton cellars were featured in _'Decanter'_ magazine. The cover showed Robert standing proudly in front of the Abbey holding a bottle of wine worth more than a small car. The inside photoshoot featured glamor shots of Cora and Robert in the cellar they never visited surrounded by the wines Charles had purchased on their behalf. Charles had been mentioned in a small blurb accompanied by a tiny photo of him carefully decanting a bottle of claret for the family's dinner.

As a result of the publicity, Downton became a mecca for rich wine enthusiasts. Cora and Robert began hosting exclusive wine tasting tours to bolster the estate's finances. Most of the world credited Robert with the cellar's success, but the wine community knew the true genius behind Downton's rise to prominence. _'Decanter'_ offered Charles a regular column featuring his pick from recent vintages. Brokers and wine aficionados from all over the world paid Charles consulting fees to evaluate their cellars. Charles could have left Downton years ago if not for his loyalty to the Crawleys.

Elsie knew all of this. She even had a copy of the _'Decanter'_ issue featuring Charles. Someday, she might work up the courage to ask him to sign it for her, if only to tease him.

"But how did you translate your success in wine to food?" She hadn't heard this part of the story.

"Robert wanted to keep the wine cellar in the public eye, so he suggested that the two of us do a radio show together on his station. It was soon clear that a three hour show on wine was not going to garner much listenership in Yorkshire. Our numbers were low, even for a weekend show. Since wine pairs so well with food, it made sense to expand our topics to include food.

"The new format was very successful. People liked our dynamic. Robert was the peer who related to the common man while I was the common man who could out snob the snootiest peer."

Elsie stifled a small laugh at this characterization of the friendship between the butler and the Earl.

"There's something for everyone," Charles smiled. "Even Thomas has a fan base. People appreciate it when he stirs things up, like he did today."

"Speaking of stirring…" Elsie motioned to the countertop, waving a hand at the assembled supplies. "I've bought everything you need. The recipes are just there and I'll be happy to talk you through the tough bits."

"Was this Beryl's idea?"

"No, it was my idea. Though Beryl helped select the menu. She assures me even you can handle this. It's only chicken, it's not nearly as difficult as lamb."

"You can't get ill from raw lamb," Charles pointed out very seriously. "I know I made a mistake, Elsie, but there is no need to risk both our lives. It's just cruel."

"I'm not doing this to be cruel, Charles, but I need you to understand how it feels to work so hard at something and then have it criticized."

"It's my job to be critical; I'm a critic," Charles argued. He looked at the ingredients laid out on the kitchen counter as though they might explode at any moment.

Elsie ignored his distress and opened the wine. She poured herself a generous glass and sat down at the kitchen table facing the still gawping Charles.

"You should start by preheating the oven," she offered helpfully. "If we want to eat before midnight."

Flummoxed and speechless, Charles picked up the recipe card in a daze. Noting the temperature, he set the oven; at least he tried to. With a flurry of beeps and curses, Charles eventually managed to set the timer. Elsie had to actually get up to set the temperature.

Confronted by a raw chicken, Charles frowned mightily.

"You know they sell these fully cooked at the market," he said crossly.

"Do they?" Elsie wondered innocently. She was not about to tell Charles that she bought a roasted chicken from Bakewell's at least once a month.

Charles was still unhappy with the situation, but he was never one to give in to a challenge. He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and washed his hands. Elsie gave gentle hints as he navigated the process of washing the bird and stuffing garlic cloves under the skin. The cursing subsided as Charles lost himself in the struggle of cooking. His tidy hair was soon mussed and his face was flushed with exasperation. Elsie calmly sipped her wine and enjoyed the spectacle.

The urgency subsided once the chicken was in the oven. Charles didn't think the veg would prove much of a trial. Becoming overconfident, Charles risked some conversation. If he had to endure this torture, at least he could take advantage of spending time with Elsie.

"And how are things going with Daisy? I hope she didn't scare the kitchen staff too badly when she returned."

"She did learn from Beryl," Elsie confessed. "But she handled it very well. There shouldn't be any more issues like the other night."

"Was her baby okay?" Charles was genuinely concerned. Elsie had not told him the exact nature of Daisy's family emergency.

"The baby was fine. It was William who needed help," Elsie huffed. "I knew it was a risk putting her in charge with such a young one at home, but she's earned the chance. It won't happen again. Beryl's sister has promised to pop over if William gets overwhelmed again. The poor lad was convinced the child had the croup."

"You would think a veterinarian would know better," Charles commented as he burnt his fingers on a saucepan lid. He hadn't expected it to heat up so quickly. "But then, I suppose he knows more about horses than about babies."

"Are you criticizing William now?" Elsie demanded. "Is there anything in this world that meets with your approval, Charles Carson?"

Charles could not answer as he was currently sucking on his burnt fingers.

"Dull knives? Uninspired napkins? I mean, I ask you!" She exclaimed. The wine was beginning to lessen her inhibitions which allowed her to vent her hurt and frustration. "Why would even write such things?"

Charles could see Elsie's upset. He felt like a heel, but he didn't think he deserved all the ire currently directed at him. Wisely or unwisely, he was compelled to defend himself.

"I wrote those notes before I was aware of the issues in the kitchen. I was expecting a meal up to your usual standards. I didn't expect to find much at fault, but I had to find something or people would accuse me of favoritism. I was nitpicking," Charles admitted. "I wouldn't have included most of those observations in the final review. I'm not even sure how Thomas found them."

"You should never have printed them."

"I didn't."

"Where were they?"

"On my tablet."

"I'm surprised you own a tablet!"

"Not by choice. The station gave us all one and they demand that we use it for everything. It was Ms. O'Brien's idea. Thomas must have accessed it somehow."

"Probably through the cloud," Elsie nodded. "The data must automatically upload to the station server."

"I have no idea what any of that means," Charles frowned.

Elsie could not help but smile at Charles' consternation. He'd never been one to embrace new technologies. "Is your data password protected?"

"I think so. We were assigned passwords when we were given the tablets," Charles remembered.

"Initially, I'm sure, but you're meant to change them," Elsie explained. "So no one else can access your documents."

"Why would anyone want to access my documents?" Charles was incredulous. "I'm hardly in possession of state secrets."

"Thomas clearly found them interesting." Elsie had gone back and listened to the podcast so she knew how Thomas had bullied Charles into giving the bad review, but she couldn't figure out how Thomas had the information in the first place. A clearer picture was developing.

"That son of a…" Charles growled. "I wonder what else that little weasel has been into. I'm changing all my passwords tomorrow."

Learning this last bit of information, Elsie was prepared to fully forgive Charles. Yes, he had written some incredibly ridiculous criticisms of her restaurant. He was paying for those now, but he did not deserve to be punished for broadcasting the review. Robert and, particularly, Thomas had pushed him into it.

Charles had turned back to his cooking. Elsie decided that he deserved a reprieve.

"Here, Charles, let me help," she offered gently.

"No, I think I've got it now," he protested uncertainly. He was pleasantly surprised by her offer, but felt that he needed to at least attempt to refuse it.

"It's selfish really. I do have to eat this, after all," Elsie joked. She moved to the oven and switched it from 'preheat' to 'bake'. "And I don't fancy a trip from the fire brigade tonight."

Having put up the obligatory protestation, Charles accepted her help gratefully. "Tell me what to do."

"You're doing very well. I'll just keep a closer eye on the little things," she said supportively.

"Like not setting off the smoke alarms?" Charles teased.

From that point on, they worked together seamlessly. The kitchen was small, but they moved around each other with a practiced ease usually developed over years. Elsie encouraged Charles to do the lion's share of the preparations, but she was quick to anticipate any mistake. This was no longer about humiliating him. It was about enjoying an evening together.

When the task allowed, their conversation was quite lively.

"If you were to run a restaurant, what would it be like?" Elsie prompted.

"Hmm. It would start with the wine list, of course," Charles said thoughtfully. "A wine snob's paradise."

"No bottles less than four hundred quid?" Elsie teased.

"Naturally," Charles confirmed with a smirk. He took her joking as a good sign. "Each wine would come with perfectly paired small plates at one hundred pounds apiece."

"And how would you justify such exorbitant prices?"

"Exclusivity," Charles explained with an ironic smile. "People would want to come just to show other people that they could afford to come. The waiting list for reservations would be six months out. There would be a total occupancy of ten people."

"Including the staff?"

"Of course. There would be only two tables and one of the tables would always be empty."

"Why?" Elsie laughed at his silliness.

"It's reserved."

"For whom?"

"The Queen and Prince Philip," Charles deadpanned.

When Elsie recovered from her laughter, over a minute later, she questioned him further. "Such a pompous restaurant deserves a pretentious name. What would you call it?"

Charles was stumped. " _'Carson's'_ is too obvious," he joked, earning a glare from Elsie, considering the names of two of her establishments. "And, _'If you have to ask what it costs, you can't afford to eat here'_ is too long. Maybe something in French?"

"Using initials is very fashionable," Elsie suggested. "What about R.A.O.?"

"What would that stand for?" Charles asked expectantly. He knew she was setting him up and he was determined not to laugh.

"'Rich Assholes Only'!"

"That's it!" Charles roared with laughter. "I could eat there!"

"Well, you're at least _half_ qualified," Elsie teased through her tears of laughter. Charles continued to chuckle as he popped the apple crumble into the oven and brought the chicken out to rest.

With the food almost ready to be served, they set the table together. Elsie set the plates and glasses while Charles followed behind with flatware and napkins.

"Is that the best you can do? I expected to be inspired," Elsie warned when he lay the paper napkin blandly next to the first plate.

Rolling his eyes, Charles picked the flimsy, cheap napkin up and folded it in half so that it was a right triangle. He flourished the napkin sarcastically before setting it on the table. "Tada!"

"Much better," Elsie laughed.

Soon, they were seated and enjoying an unexpectedly pleasant dinner. The gravy was over seasoned and the veg overdone, but none of that detracted from either participant's enjoyment. In fact, the only disappointment came when the apple crumble was served and they realized that the meal was coming to an end.

"To an edible meal and superior company," Charles toasted with the last dregs of his wine.

"To taking your punishment gracefully," Elsie answered back.

With the wine and meal finished, they sat in exhausted silence. Elsie feared that Charles had nodded off, so she coughed and made noise with her plate and fork. This startled him out of his reverie.

"I'm afraid I've made a mess of your kitchen," Charles apologized.

"I'll load the dishwasher and you can put the burnt dishes in the sink to soak," Elsie instructed. Charles' shoulders slumped and he looked defeated. "Come on, it won't take a mo."

Charles frowned at her skeptically.

"I'll open another bottle of wine," Elsie said enticingly. "And we can move to the sitting room when the kitchen is clean."

With this happy inspiration, Charles jumped up from his chair and attacked the mountain of pots and pans. Elsie opened the wine and set it aside to breathe. In no time, the table was cleared and the countertop was spotless. The sink was filled with the last, most stubborn dishes soaking in hot, soapy water.

In the living room, armed with a fresh bottle of wine, Charles and Elsie settled on the couch. Emboldened by the effects of the first bottle of wine, they sat quite close.

"Let me say again how very sorry I am about what happened on the radio today," Charles slurred. His fatigue was as much from cooking as from the wine.

"Nonsense, they do say that there is no such thing as bad publicity," Elsie shrugged. "We're already booked through next weekend. I guess people want to see if we really are such a train wreck."

"You always could find the patch of blue sky in an otherwise grey day," Charles smiled fondly. "It's one of the things I've missed most about you, Els." He didn't even notice that he's slipped into the familiar manner of address from their days in London.

"Oh? What else have you missed about me, Charlie?" She asked, leaning closer to him. Charles felt the atmosphere in the room shift. Not only was he clearly forgiven, but now he had hope for something more than forgiveness.

Matching her flirtatiousness, Charles leaned towards her. "I miss seeing you every day," he admitted frankly.

"Anything else?" Her voice was low and velvety. A wave of warmth climbed up Charles' spine at the sound.

"I miss how you used to seduce me, even though it was completely unnecessary." His voice was almost a whisper. Elsie moved closer to hear him.

"Are you saying that I needn't have made the effort?" She put a hand on his leg.

"I've always been a pushover for you. All you had to do was snap your fingers." He took her hand in his.

"Really? That's not how I remember things. I remember a certain young man playing hard to get." She raised her chin, lifting her face towards his.

"Because I enjoyed the seduction." He tilted his head down, moving towards her.

"So did I." Their lips met; cautiously at first and then hungrily. Elsie felt transported back in time. Once more she was that naïve twenty-one year old with a hopeless crush on her older roommate. Once more she marveled that he was kissing her, that he wanted her.

Charles felt giddy. Did he dare to hope for a second chance? Here, in his arms, was the love he'd squandered twenty years ago. She was just as feisty and just as beautiful as she had always been. Now, she was successful, as he'd always known she would be. It had been incredible to think she had wanted him twenty years ago. It was almost impossible to believe that she would want him now.

He should go, his mind was telling him. If he didn't go soon, he might get carried away and he didn't wish to be ungentlemanly. He wanted things to work out between them this time. He was willing to take things as slowly as she wished.

"I…I…" Charles stammered around her lips. "I should see to the dishes."

"You can wash them in the morning," Elsie panted back.

Charles felt a rush of adrenaline at the implication of her words. She wanted him to stay the night. He kissed her with increasing vigor until a thought occurred to him. He needed to tell her something, but he was unwilling to remove his lips from her skin. He directed his kisses to just behind her ear.

"Um…Elsie, I didn't…that is, I came here expecting to be yelled at."

"And you were," she answered before resuming her suction on his earlobe.

"But the point is…mmm…I don't have…I didn't bring…"

"Protection?" Elsie finished for him. She touched her forehead to his and tried to focus on his eyes.

"I hope you won't think me too forward, but I bought some… a few weeks ago," she confessed.

"You did?"

"With the launch coming up, I wanted to be prepared for the celebration."

"And what exactly is it that we're celebrating?" Charles asked with trepidation. He was confused. It was difficult to concentrate on the conversation with her so close to him.

"A successful relaunch."

"Of _'The Rose and Thistle'_?"

"Of us."

TBC…

* * *

 **AN/ Okay, I am a liar. There will be ONE MORE CHAPTER. [These two just keep talking!] It will tend towards the T+++ rating and will answer a few outstanding questions. Thank you for all the insightful, encouraging, and helpful reviews.**


	3. Part Three

**AN/ Those of you who know me will not be surprised that this is not the last chapter. THESE TWO! I swear, they won't stop talking! **

**Like the real universe, this one just keeps expanding…**

 **There is a bit of time jumping here… people wanted more backstory…**

* * *

 _Twenty years ago in London…_

 _She smiled when she heard his knock on her door. It was at once tentative and confident. She pretended to be asleep when he opened the door and peeked into her room. It was past three in the morning after all and she had no intention of letting him know she'd been waiting up for him._

 _"Els?" He asked in a stage whisper. She stirred slightly in the bed to encourage him, but did not speak. He slipped fully into the room but stood uncertainly near the door. "Els, are you up?"_

 _"Aye, Charlie, I'm up," she answered softly. "And so will Beryl be if you keep shouting across the room."_

 _He accepted her implied invitation and moved swiftly to the bed. It astonished her how anyone that large could move with such a quiet grace. She lifted the duvet for him and he slipped into bed beside her._

 _"Just a cuddle, mind you," she cautioned. "Some of us need to be at class early tomorrow."_

 _"I'll settle for a cuddle," Charles promised as he opened his arms and she nuzzled into his embrace. He was wearing a t-shirt and his shorts. She was wearing one of his old flannel shirts. "And maybe some conversation? We haven't seen much of each other lately."_

 _He was correct. Elsie was taking classes in the mornings and interning at the Criterion in the afternoons while Charles attended classes in the afternoon and worked nights. They really only saw each other in the wee hours or on Sundays._

 _"Late night at the bar tonight?"_

 _"There was a hen party that wouldn't leave. My clothes smell like clove and menthol cigarettes," he chuckled. "At least they tipped well."_

 _"Then you must have flirted with them like I told you. I know you think it improper, but all women need someone to show a bit of interest in them every now and then," Elsie educated him. "Preferably in a manner that's not entirely proper."  
_

 _She accentuated this last point by wiggling closer to him. Charles took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing the conversation, purposefully keeping it light. He'd promised to be content with just cuddling and he intended to keep his promise._

 _"You'd have been proud of me. I was absolutely charming. Though it's easier to flirt with the married women; you know they don't mean it when they say they want to take you home."_

 _"I wouldn't be so sure," Elsie cautioned with a smirk in her voice._

 _"How are things going with the project?" He asked with interest; eager to change the subject. "Isn't your presentation coming up soon?"_

 _"Two weeks," she confirmed with a nervous nod against his chest. Her term project was to design a business plan for a new restaurant including location, menu, pricing, staffing, and décor. The students would be pitching their ideas to a panel of investors. Every year one or two projects actually receive funding this way, providing a huge boost to the selected budding restaurateurs. Elsie and Beryl had designed a tapas and wine bar for Clerkenwell. Demographics told them it was a sure thing. They'd practiced their pitch on Charles a few weeks back and he'd heartily approved._

 _"You'll be fine. You know what you're about. You've done all your research. If you talk to the investors with the same passion as when you described it to me, they can't help but believe in you as much as I do."_

 _"Thank you for that. You know that your opinion matters more to me than theirs," Elsie assured him with a kiss._

 _"But, their opinions are backed with money," Charles reminded her. "So, while mine might mean more, theirs are more valuable." The idea made him a little sad. Hearing this in his voice, Elsie caressed his face before kissing his full lips more deeply than before._

 _"I'm done with cuddling and talking," she whispered huskily._

 _"I should have known you'd try to seduce me," he purred as he unfastened the only two buttons she'd bothered with on her shirt. "In fact, I was counting on it."_

 _His hands roamed her ripe young body. His musky scent aroused her as she kissed his chest. They kissed and fondled with youthful playfulness, blissfully unaware that this would be the last time they would make love for many years._

 _Playfulness soon gave way to passion. Elsie opened her legs and Charles took his place between them. With long, measured movements, they led each other steadily towards climax until, suddenly, restraint was impossible. Charles came quickly, in a frenzy of flesh and heat. Elsie followed close behind, clinging to him with her heels dug into the back of his thighs. They were unaware of anything outside that moment. Past and future were obliterated by one perfect instant of Present._

 _-00-_

 _"Charlie, are you awake?" Elsie whispered._

 _"Hmm" he hummed in vague response._

 _"Beryl will be up soon. You have to sneak back to your room before she catches us."_

 _Instead of answering, Charles hugged her closer to him and kissed her soundly. When they parted, he grinned sleepily at her. "And good morning to you too."_

 _"Must you always look so smug after?" Elsie teased. She cuddled back next to his warm body._

 _"You say 'smug'. I say 'justly proud'," he purred back._

 _"Yes, well, it isn't as though you accomplished that on your own," she reminded him. "I didn't exactly 'lie back and think of England.'"_

 _"No, you certainly didn't." His hand roamed seductively down her hip._

 _"Do you want Beryl to catch us?" She swatted his hand playfully as he cupped her behind._

 _"Would it be so bad?" His tone was slightly injured._

 _Before she could answer they heard a door open. Beryl's steps padded down the apartment hallway towards the bathroom._

 _"Now's your chance!" Elsie pushed Charles towards the edge of her small bed._

 _"Fine." Sighing, Charles found his shorts beside the bed. He pulled them on as he sat on the edge of the bed. Elsie sat up beside him with him with the unbuttoned flannel shirt wrapped protectively around her._

 _"We'll talk about it tonight," she promised him with a kiss to the cheek. This cheered him considerably. At the door, he peeked out to check that the way was clear. He slipped out quickly but not before casting a wink and a blown kiss over his shoulder._

 _Elsie flopped back on the bed. 'What are we doing?' She wondered. They'd been friends for almost four years, roommates for eighteen months, and lovers for eight of those months. They were both still young and ambitious. Neither wanted a serious relationship, or so they'd said eight months ago. Elsie thought maybe it was time to reevaluate. Elsie thought maybe Charles would agree with her.  
_

 _Elsie hummed jauntily as she entered the kitchen._

 _"'Morning sunshine," Beryl greeted her from the table where she was sat eating a large bowl of Coco Pops._

 _Elsie tried to control her smile as she poured out a small bowl of Rice Krispies and joined Beryl at the table. She sniffed the bottle of milk._

 _"I think the milk's gone funny," Elsie winced._

 _Beryl shrugged as she spooned another helping of milk-soaked cereal into her mouth._

 _"And you're going to be a world famous chef?" Elsie laughed. She began to eat her dry Rice Krispies as Beryl glared at her._

 _"Himself is in a fine mood this morning," Beryl noted with an affected nonchalance._

 _"Wh- What makes you say that?" Elsie half choked on the dry cereal._

 _"I heard him singing in the shower when I passed the bathroom…"_

 _Down the hall the bathroom door burst open noisily. They heard Charles' boisterous voice roll down the hall along with a cloud of steam. "…'Twas on a Thursday morning…And there I saw my darling..." He half sung and half hummed as he retreated into his room and the song faded. "..my heart away…"_

 _Elsie bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud._

 _"You see," Beryl pointed. "Something has him acting daft as a brush."_

 _"I wonder what it is," Elsie said innocently._

 _"Do you? Do you wonder?" Beryl asked mockingly._

 _"What are you insinuating, Beryl?"_

 _"I don't know why you two bother sneaking around," Beryl huffed. "That man of yours is about as quiet as Piccadilly at rush hour."_

 _Elsie blushed, but could not stop smiling. "How long have you known?"_

 _"Since the start, I reckon; seven months?"_

 _Elsie nodded in confirmation._

 _"I'm sorry if we disturbed you. I do ask him to try to be quiet."_

 _"That's hypocritical of you, considering you're the reason he's making so much noise," Beryl teased her friend kindly. "Not that you're any quieter. Can I gather the sex is good, at least?"_

 _"Better than good. When he touches me…" Elsie sighed at the memory. "He makes me shiver all over."_

 _"What a disturbing thought," Beryl grimaced, sorry she'd asked. "But you owe me three quid for ear plugs."_

 _"That's a bargain," Elsie laughed. "Don't let on that you know. Charlie would be so embarrassed."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"Well, we're not really dating, are we? We all keep such odd hours, it's more a relationship of convenience; friends with bennies."_

 _"Ha! Keep telling yourself that, lass, and you might start to believe it."_

 _"What is that supposed to mean?"_

 _"Does Charles Carson strike you as the type who partakes in a friends with benefits situation?" Beryl questioned. "Did he actually call it that?"_

 _"No," Elsie admitted. "Though I might have…once…early on."_

 _"Now why would you go and do a thing like that? He's likely to take you at your word," Beryl exclaimed. "Unless that's all you want. Are you keeping your options open?"_

 _"Of course not! Granted, we're both busy with work and classes, but I'm not interested in anyone but Charlie."_

 _"Then you'd better tell him that."_

 _"We should clear about what we're doing," Elsie realized, biting her lip. She couldn't think of how to bring it up. Though it seemed unlikely, what if Charles wanted to keep things casual? Then, Elsie had an idea. "The trouble is, I don't believe it's a conversation I can have with him now. I'd be too embarrassed and absurd to ask something like that after all these months."_

 _Elsie stared significantly at Beryl until she understood. "You're not suggesting I try."_

 _"Would you?" Elsie almost begged._

 _"By heck! I've had some commissions in my time, but…"_

 _"It would be such a weight off my mind."_

 _Beryl found she was unable to deny her friend this favor, no matter how uncomfortable the conversation was likely to be. She nodded and returned to her breakfast._

 _Soon, Charles bounded into the kitchen. "What are my fine ladies up to today?" Charles asked with a silly grin._

 _"Nothing special," Beryl answered, sounding perhaps too chipper in her attempt to be casual. Luckily, Charles was too distracted to notice. "Why are you up so early?"_

 _"I'm meeting my father for breakfast."_

 _"Your Da is in town?" It surprised Elsie that Charles hadn't mentioned it earlier._

 _"_ _He called the bar last night._ _Spur of the moment trip," Charles shrugged. "Maybe Lord Grantham needed something from his London tailor. It will be good to see him. I haven't been home in months and when I call, I mainly chat with Mum."_

 _Charles spooned a few heaps of Nescafe into a mug and splashed hot water in after. He picked up the milk as he stirred. Sniffing it, he wrinkled his nose and poured the sour milk down the sink._

 _"Oy! I was using that!" Beryl protested._

 _Ignoring her, Charles reached deep into the back of the fridge and brought out a fresh bottle of milk. He topped off his coffee with it and set the bottle on the table._ _Charles sat at the table to drink his coffee._ _Relieved to be spared dry cereal, Elsie poured the new milk into her bowl. Beryl glared at her. Elsie glared back defiantly. Beaten, Beryl took to staring at Charles who looked curiously between the two unnaturally silent women. Off put by the way Beryl was looking at him, Charles finished his coffee quickly._

 _"I'm off then," he announced redundantly as he stood. "I'm late shift again, so don't plan on me for dinner. Ta!"_

 _"Ta," Elsie and Beryl responded. After he'd gone, both women let out huge sighs of relief._

 _"No, this isn't going to be awkward at all," Beryl murmured to herself._

 _TBC…_

* * *

 **AN/ I hate to leave it there, but it was hard to find time even to write the above. Please forgive any typos.**

 **FYI, I will not be updating until mid-November. I'm off to South America and will not be taking a computer. When I return, I will finish off this story (in 3 chapters, give or take- place your bets now) and then dive back into Perpetual Motion (which is currently Perpetually Motionless).**

 **Adios! Hasta proximo mes!**


	4. Part Four

**AN/ I apologize for the longer than anticipated absence, because- reasons…In the interim, this story has continued to develop in my head. As a result of my poor planning, the timeline is going to be a little confusing for the next few updates. I'll try to be as clear about the timing as possible.**

* * *

Six Weeks Ago… Downton Village…

"You're sure it isn't any trouble," Elsie asked again. She and Charles were in Beryl's front hall, pulling on their coats. Outside, a steady rain washed the streets of Downton. "I'm fine walking."

Charles paused with his coat half buttoned and gave her a perplexed look. "Really? You want to walk back in this?"

"It isn't raining so much now," Elsie offered lamely. "I could borrow Beryl's Wellies…"

"No, you can't," Beryl burst in from the living room. "I need them tomorrow for…Well, I need them tomorrow."

Charles and Elsie exchanged bemused looks as their hostess picked up the boots and tossed them in the closet. Beryl scampered away as quickly as she'd come.

"We're both on the Estate grounds and your cottage is on my way home," Charles reminded Elsie. "As if anywhere in Downton is more than two minutes out of my way."

"I know, but I feel like an idiot for not planning on the weather." She did not mention that Beryl had assured Elsie it would be fine enough to walk home from the dinner party tonight. Elsie had already realized that she and Charles were being set up by their less than subtle friend. It was probably best that Charles not realize it too.

It seemed odd that any set up was necessary, but Charles had kept a cool distance from Elsie since her return to Yorkshire. He'd been very kind of course but it was not the reception for which Elsie had hoped. She'd envisioned frequent meet ups for coffee or even dinner, but when Elsie asked, Charles always had a ready excuse. Faced with inevitable rejection, Elsie stopped inviting him anywhere. Apparently, Charles wished to keep their relationship at the status quo. Elsie had respected his decision despite her disappointment. To do otherwise would make things awkward between them and, above all else, she did not want that.

"You could be forgiven that," Charles assured her with a kind smile. "If only you'd chosen shoes more suited for the conditions. Really, Elsie, what were you thinking?"

"Have you forgotten why Beryl threw this little party?" The final funding for 'The Rose and Thistle' had closed earlier in the day.

"No, though I'm still confused as to why I was invited to celebrate the occasion."

"You've been with Beryl and me from the beginning, Charles," Elsie insisted. "We never would have gone to London without your influence. Beryl thought it right to include you."

Charles shrugged off the compliment. "What does that have to do with your shoes?"

"Beryl picked me up from home this morning so we could take care of some things at the bank in Ripon. These shoes are perfect for bank lobbies and dinner parties."

"But less so for muddy Yorkshire paths." Charles slung his muffler around his neck and waited for Elsie to pull on her gloves.

Beryl came bustling back. "Are you two still here?"

"Before I go, Beryl, thank you for inviting me," Charles said grandly. "It always makes me proud to see what you and Elsie have achieved. It means a lot to me that you think I've had some small part in-"

"Yes, yes, thank you, Charles," Beryl interrupted him. "Now, be off with you and drive safe."

Beryl practically pushed the two of them onto her front stoop. Though still mildly bewildered by his hostess' behavior, Charles smoothly deployed his umbrella and held his arm out for Elsie.

"I left my car in the station lot, but it's less than three blocks away," he informed her though he'd already mentioned as much before. "I could go get it if you want to wait under an awning or somewhere dry." Waiting at Beryl's was clearly out.

"I think I can last three blocks," Elsie said with exaggerated bravado. She took his arm and huddled closely to his body which shielded her from the slight but chilly wind. They walked at a brisk but comfortable pace.

"Do you remember that rainy day in London?" Charles asked suddenly.

"You're going to have to narrow that down," Elsie teased even though she knew exactly the day to which he was referring.

"Beryl was away in Yorkshire. You and I had walked to the campus to sign up for summer term," he recalled. "Walking back we were caught in a sudden shower."

"It was very sudden, but you were armed with your umbrella; prepared as always," Elsie added. She saw little point in continuing to claim forgetfulness. "At first you tried to bend down so we could share, but it wasn't working. My feet were soaked."

"You were wearing those cheap canvas shoes."

"And I convinced you to carry me on your back all the way to the flat."

"We almost made it back without incident," Charles reminded her. "Almost."

"Hmm, almost," she agreed with a small, knowing smile.

-00-

 _20 years ago…London…_

 _With Elsie shielding them with the umbrella while perched on his back, Charles trotted up the soggy London streets. The late spring storm intensified as the skies opened overhead. Charles took the opportunity to catch his breath while waiting for a light to change a few blocks from the flat._

 _"Thank goodness we're almost there," Charles panted._

 _"You should join the gym with Beryl and me," Elsie offered helpfully._

 _"Are you saying I'm more out of shape than Beryl?" Charles questioned. He drew himself up straighter as if to deny his fatigue._

 _"If the cap fits…"_

 _"Do you think it wise to insult someone who is carrying you on their back?" Charles asked archly. "I could drop you in that puddle." He pointed to a large body of standing water in the street before them.  
_

 _"You're too much of a gentleman for that," Elsie argued, hoping she was correct._

 _"Perhaps, but you shouldn't tempt me to act ungentlemanly," he countered._

 _"I'm not sure how," Elsie laughed. "But you managed to make that sound –Charles! LOOK OUT!"_

 _A massive lorry rolled by, passing through the puddle into which he had threatened to deposit her. A wall of water splashed them both from an angle that rendered the umbrella moot. The main force of the wave hit Charles full in the face._

 _"Bloody hell!" Charles exclaimed as he brought his hands up to wipe his face. At the same time, a startled Elsie dropped from his back, pulling the umbrella down forcefully onto his head as she fell. Mercifully, his subsequent curses were muffled by the umbrella. Still, Elsie could hear that Charles' command of the English language included a full complement of creative expletives. By the time an irate Charles emerged from beneath the torn and shattered bumbershoot, Elsie was laughing hysterically._

 _Charles pointedly ignored her as he examined the umbrella before ramming it into the bin on the corner. The light changed and he stomped off towards the flat. Elsie followed in his fuming wake still laughing. They both ignored the rain that continued to fall._

 _"It's only water, Charlie," she tried to console him when she caught up._

 _"Filthy, mother f-grrr," he growled to stop himself from becoming too vulgar. "Bloody, gutter water!"_

 _"Still, it's not that bad," Elsie insisted. "At least your shoes aren't ruined like mine."_

 _She purposefully splashed through a small puddle in an attempt to make him laugh. Charles' opinion on her choice of shoes was well documented. Rather than remind her that cloth shoes are near useless in a climate where rain is the default forecast, Charles remained silent. His continued to march forward as his scowl darkened._

 _"I'll buy you a new umbrella," she offered. At the mention of the umbrella, Charles instinctively reached up to rub his head where he'd been hit. "And I promise not to clobber you with it."_

 _Charles still glared at her, but Elsie could see signs that she was getting through to him. She could have sworn she saw one of his eyebrows twitch._

 _"But it might be a while before I can save enough to replace both my shoes and the umbrella," Elsie babbled to herself, chipping away at his foul mood with her cheerful tone. "I paid almost five quid for these." She splashed again._

 _"You were ripped off," Charles grumbled._

 _"It speaks!" Elsie exclaimed gleefully._

 _"You should be grateful that I've been as silent as I have," Charles informed her as they turned onto their block._

 _"Oh, but I heard what you said earlier," she said with exaggerated shock. "I'm pretty sure no one has used some of those phrases since Queen Victoria. What exactly is a 'crinkum crankum'?"_

 _"Just something my grandda used to say," Charles blushed red but cracked a half smile. "I picked it up from him even though I didn't know what it meant. My mum always scolded him when he used it so I assumed it was bad."_

 _"But you know what it means now?"_

 _"I used it once to shock my mum and she grounded me for a week," Charles related. "When my grandda found out he told me what it meant."_

 _"And…?"_

 _"I'd rather not say." Charles dug the key out of his pocket and unlocked the street level door. "Right now, I just want a hot shower."_

 _"You're going to leave it up to me to decode your grandfather's curse with my twisted imagination?" Elsie pouted._

 _"It doesn't take much imagination to decode," Charles mumbled as he climbed the stairs. "It's pretty much a fifty fifty prospect."_

 _"You mean it's either a cock or a c-"_

 _"Elsie!" Charles stared at her with genuine shock._

 _"I'm not the one who said it!" She exclaimed back at him. "Oh, and I'm taking the first shower."_

 _She sprinted up the stairs before Charles could process her words. By the time he realized what she'd said, Elsie was a full flight ahead of him._

 _"Wait! I'm the one covered in filthy water! I should get the first shower!" He yelled up the stairs as he began to run. "You can go to the basement and wash your cheap shoes!"_

 _"I'd rather wash my crankum crinkum," Elsie called down to him._

 _"That's crinkum crankum," Charles corrected her as he finally began to laugh at the absurdity of the conversation._

 _Elsie could hear him getting closer as she struggled with the key. She tried to distract him by asking, "Or is it your crankum and my crinkum? That makes more sense…"_

 _Elsie managed to unlock the door just as Charles reached the landing. Breathless and laughing, Charles pushed by Elsie as she opened the door. He dashed down the hall and dove into the bathroom before she could stop him._

 _"That is not the behavior of a gentleman!" Elsie scolded from the entryway. She kicked off her soggy shoes._

 _"I'll be done in less than five minutes," Charles' raised voice promised through the locked bathroom door. The water started to run. "You'd have taken fifteen."_

 _"At least give me a towel," Elsie called down the hall in frustration. There was no response._

 _"Or just throw one outside the door," she tried again. Still no response came._

 _"Ya, ninny," she scolded him under her breath. Chuckling to herself, Elsie decided she might as well undress by the door rather than track the wet all through the flat. She stepped out of her wet jeans and started to pull her shirt over her head._

 _"Um, oh, ah, sorry," Charles spluttered._

 _Elsie nearly jumped out of her skivvies (which were all she was wearing at the moment) when she heard his voice much closer than she'd expected. She turned to see him standing in the hallway dressed only in his shorts staring straight up at the ceiling and holding a towel out to her. Charles' cheeks were bright red from embarrassment. Elsie was only momentarily distracted by this rare view of her nearly naked roommate. Ever the pragmatist, whe saw an opportunity and she struck._

 _While Charles was busy looking anywhere but at Elsie, she attempted to bolt past him and head for the open bathroom. She might have made it, but Charles had seen her movement with his peripheral vision (or so he would insist later when she accused him of actually watching her out of the corner of his eye). Charles blocked the hallway with his arm and the towel, trying to defend his coveted shower. Elsie tried to dodge his arm, but ran right into his chest. Charles dropped the towel and wrapped his arm around her as they collided._

 _There are two versions to every 'first kiss' story. In Charles' version, it was he who instigated the kiss. Charles would always claim that in that moment he did not recognize the ravishing creature in his arms as his dear friend Elsie Hughes. Instead, he saw only a beautiful woman looking up at him with rain that clung to her eyelashes like sparkling diamonds and with red, moist lips that demanded to be kissed._

 _Per Elsie's perception of the moment, the kiss was entirely her idea. Pressed so closely to Charles' bare chest, she'd forgotten this was indeed Charles Carson, one of her most cherished friends. She was, however, keenly aware of the heat emanating from his body as she gazed up past his perfect, dimpled chin into his kind eyes. Elsie had never felt such a physical attraction to anyone in her life._

 _Though there may never be agreement on who kissed whom, what followed is beyond dispute. They both forgot themselves in the overwhelming lust of the moment. Their lips met, Charles' grip on her waist tightened, Elsie's arms wrapped around his neck. For the second time that day, Charles picked Elsie up. Now, however, instead of clinging to his back, she wrapped her legs around him from the front. He pressed her against the wall and moved his hands to her bottom, seeking a better way to hold her up. His foot stepped on the towel and he vaguely remembered the argument that had led to the current situation. An idea occurred to him.  
_

 _"Shower?" He asked without separating their mouths._

 _"Hmm?" She questioned distractedly._

 _"Share?"_

 _"Mmhmm," she agreed readily. Thus, they resolved the conflict of the moment by sharing the shower before sharing Elsie's bed._

 _TBC…_

* * *

 **AN/ Yes, I know this is an odd place to stop…I do promise that the next update will be timely.  
**


	5. Part Five

**AN/ Sorry for the unanticipated delay. I'm trying to keep the time jumps straight. Flashbacks within flashbacks are weird...**

* * *

Six weeks ago… Downton Village…

"You were wearing those cheap canvas shoes."

"And I convinced you to carry me on your back all the way to the flat."

"We almost made it back without incident," Charles reminded her. "Almost."

"Hmm, almost," she agreed.

While their bodies were innocently walking side by side in the rain, their minds traveled to that distant not so innocent memory. In flashes they both recalled the rush of discovery of that afternoon…Groping each other in the shower. Charles always in danger of letting the passion of the moment overwhelm him. Elsie calming him with a whisper or a gentle touch of her hand. Elsie leading him down the hallway to her room wearing a towel wrapped around her still damp hair but naught else. Sinking onto her bed together for the first time while the London rain fell outside her window.

Here in Yorkshire, surrounded by a falling mist, Elsie vaguely wondered if any of the raindrops falling on them tonight had witnessed their first adventure as lovers.

"I don't suppose I could petition for a repeat performance?" Elsie ventured before the silence became obvious and uncomfortable.

With visions of their lovemaking in his head, Charles was startled by her question. "Repeat performance?"

"To carry me on your back through the rain," Elsie clarified. If she was aware of the double meaning of her question, she did not show it.

 _Perhaps she doesn't remember that afternoon as fondly as I do,_ Charles thought to himself with a frown. "Oh, that. No, I'm afraid not," he answered. "Perhaps if I were twenty years younger."

"Or I were twenty years lighter," Elsie teased.

"I don't think that's an issue," Charles protested immediately. "The years have hardly changed you, but the same cannot be said of me."

"You've not changed so much," Elsie assured him.

"No? I was sure when you came back to Yorkshire, you must have found me quite altered."

"Nonsense," Elsie objected.

"While you were out conquering the world, I've stayed here, growing horrible and fat and red-faced. You probably couldn't think what you ever saw in me."

Though he tried to pass it off as self-deprecating humor, Elsie saw past the lame attempt. Eager to cheer him, Elsie assured him, "I found that you were still a good man. You _are_ still a good man."

When Charles did not seem convinced, Elsie decided to try a new tack. "You are a bit red-faced and your suit is a little tight," she teased and patted his middle fondly. "But none of that matters. In the real ways, you haven't changed."

Charles felt his whole body warm when she touched the front of his coat. It was just as he feared; she still affected him more than she could know. As ever, her hands had the power to soothe him or stir him up. He'd been wise to avoid too much time in her presence since her return.

He sent up a silent prayer of thanks when he realized they'd reached his car. Charles opened the door for Elsie and held the umbrella for her as she was seated.

"You see? Ever the gentleman," she smiled up at him sending another wave of warmth from his toes to his ears and back again.

He took the moment to calm himself as he walked around to the driver's side. In one fluid movement, Charles closed the umbrella as he sat down and quickly shut the door, miraculously managing to keep dry. The car started quickly and they sat, waiting for the defrost to clear the moisture from the windscreen. Impatient to get moving, Charles wiped at the stubborn moisture. With limited visibility, Charles pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards Downton Abbey. Elsie was staying in a cottage on the outskirts of the estate while Charles' cottage was closer to the main house.

"Where to next?" Charles asked, trying to make conversation as he navigated the muddy lane.

"My cottage," Elsie answered somewhat confused. "Where else?"

"I mean after the launch," Charles clarified. "Beryl says the two of you aren't planning on opening another restaurant in Yorkshire, so…"

"So?"

"So, I thought that you'd already know where you were going next."

"Who says I'm going anywhere?" Elsie was peeved by the question.

"Beryl…she thought…" Charles stammered. He had not meant to upset her. "Of course, she thought you'd leave after you opened 'Patmore's'. We all did."

"That was the plan," Elsie conceded shortly. "But we had so many ideas we decided to open another location… and then another."

"And Robert said you were letting the cottage month to month," Charles continued to explain his mistake. "And, well, you never stay anywhere this long, so I thought…I assumed you'd be leaving soon."

"I wish people would wait to see if I really am leaving before packing me up!" Elsie exclaimed as they pulled up in front of her cottage. She felt a flicker of anger as a thought occurred to her. Charles put the car in park as she rounded on him with fire in her eyes. "Is that why you've been dodging me since I came back?"

"I haven't been…" but his objection died when confronted by her unflinching gaze. He rallied himself quickly and tried once again to defend an indefensible position. "We talk almost every day."

"On the phone," she pointed out. "Or we email and text the same as we would if I were working on the continent. I thought we might see more of each other, living in the same village; on the same blasted estate, but we haven't."

"I hoped you might not notice," he muttered weakly.

"There was never much chance of that," she said drolly. "I told myself we were both just extremely busy people, but that's a hard sell in a small village like Downton."

"We are busy people…" Charles grasped weakly at the last straw.

"Not too busy to have coffee with a friend," she accused. "What else am I to think, but that I'm being avoided?"

"Can you really blame me?" Charles burst out.

"What do you mean?" Elsie demanded.

Charles could no longer meet her eyes. Elsie watched him expectantly. The only sound was the quickening rain beating on the top of the car. Charles flexed his hands on the steering wheel several times before he finally confessed, "I didn't think it was wise to become accustomed to having you around when you were just bound to leave."

Elsie could hardly believe her ears. "You won't accept that I'm _here now_ because you don't want to deal with me _leaving_ _later_?"

"That's about the measure of it," Charles acknowledged with what he hoped was a charming smile. "You should be flattered really."

"That's rich," Elsie scoffed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can't face the idea of my leaving when you were the one who left in the first place," she pointed out bitterly. Without waiting for his response, Elsie was out of the car and stalking angrily to her door. _Rain be damned,_ she cursed in her head. She'd long suspected he was avoiding her, but it hurt to hear him admit it. She'd been a fool to hang about Yorkshire hoping he'd come around and things might be as they were before. Elsie was embarrassed to only now realize that was what she had been doing for the past two years. She was not the type to chase after a man, _even Charles Bloody Carson._

Charles bolted out of the car and rushed after her, fussing with the umbrella as he passed through the beam from the headlamps. He clearly intended to see her to the door despite her displeasure with him. This piqued Elsie's ire further. Of course he would resort to etiquette even in a moment like this. It was his way of distancing himself from everyone.

"Are you still angry with me over that?" He asked with genuine wonder when he caught her up. They reached the stoop before he could manage to open the umbrella.

Ignoring him, Elsie fumbled in her bag for her keys. She nearly dropped them in her haste to escape Charles and his perplexed expression.

"Are you really thinking of staying?" Charles asked hopefully. He thought he might fare better if he changed the subject.

" _If_ I was, I'm not anymore," Elsie answered curtly. "I should have left months ago."

And with that declaration, she entered the cottage and slammed the door in his face. Elsie removed her wet coat and threw it and her bag down in the corner, not bothering to hang them. She stormed straight to the whiskey decanter in the living room and poured a healthy measure. She drank it down in one and poured another.

"Daft man!" she muttered between swigs. She was determined she would not cry. _Elsie Hughes cries for no man,_ she reminded herself. But this wasn't entirely true. She had cried for exactly one man. But that was twenty years ago and she would spare no more tears for him.

How had it all gone so wrong? They'd taken such pains not to let their affair ruin their friendship, but they had failed. It had affected the nature of their relationship for the past twenty years. They'd avoided that truth until now, but they could no longer deny it.

"And it all started out so promisingly," Elsie mused to herself.

-00-

 _Twenty years ago…London…_

 _Elsie and Charles lay spooned together under her threadbare duvet. Elsie shivered as the heat of passion faded and reality encroached on the dozing lovers. She slowly became aware of her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was how quiet the room was now. The squall had passed and only a few lonely drips remained as evidence of its passing._

 _"Els?" His voice rumbled gently behind her. He had sensed her waking._

 _"Mm?"_

 _"I have to go to work." It was a statement and an apology in one._

 _"It can't be that late," Elsie yawned. How had the time slipped away so quickly? She turned to her bedside clock and blinked to bring the red digits into focus; 05:37. "You don't have to leave right now, do you?"_

 _"Not for another hour," Charles confirmed as he rolled onto his back. "But I thought you might want… that we might need to talk."_

 _"No."_

 _"I'm sorry?" Her answer perplexed him._

 _"No, we don't need to talk," Elsie insisted lazily._

 _"But…" Charles was too confused by her attitude to form a full sentence. "What we just…"_

 _"Are you trying to tell me this was a mistake, Charlie?" Elsie asked casually._

 _"Um…I don't know…Was it?"_

 _"I don't know either," Elsie agreed. "But I don't want to decide right now. Do you?" She rolled to face him. She lay half on him with her chin in her hand, her elbow on his chest, and her breasts pressed beneath her against his chest._

 _"Ah…well…" Charlie faltered. He found himself distracted by the view of her body draped atop his own. The duvet had slipped down to the small of her back. Charlie pulled the duvet back up to her shoulder, resting his hand there._

 _Her piercing blue eyes gazed up at him as she spoke in an even and reasonable tone. "If it was a mistake… and I'm not saying it was or wasn't, but if it was…then it's been made. We can't change that, can we?"_

 _"Um, no."_

 _"So shouldn't we make the most of it?" She argued with an impish grin. "Might as well hang for a sheep as a lamb."_

 _From Charles' perspective, Elsie's argument was very persuasive. He smiled back and nodded mutely for a few moments before finding his voice._

 _"Elsie Hughes, as always, your logic is unimpeachable," Charles conceded with a flirtatious quirk of his eyebrows. His hand slid down from her shoulder, along the contour of her torso to rest on her exposed bum._

 _"Are you saying that you couldn't argue with me even if you wanted to?" Elsie needled playfully._

 _Craving a kiss, Charles gently pulled her up towards him. "And I certainly don't want to."_

 _-00-_

 _An hour later, Charles stood in the doorway of her room, fully dressed for work; complete with bow tie. He held a clothes basket under one arm._

 _"I'll throw our wet things in the washer on my way out," he informed her conversationally._

 _"Thank you, Charlie," a still naked Elsie answered from the bed. She smiled at the easy domesticity between them. "I'll move them to the dryer after I dress."_

 _"I should hope you wouldn't go to the basement as you are," Charles teased. He lingered awkwardly, wanting to go to her and kiss her goodbye before leaving to catch his bus. But it felt too presumptuous._

 _Sensing his unease, but misinterpreting it, Elsie assured him, "We'll talk tomorrow. Beryl won't be back until late."_

 _Taking this as his dismissal, Charles took his leave. "Tomorrow then."_

 _-00-_

 _Charles stumbled into the flat a little after four in the morning. He did not usually go out after the restaurant bar closed, but he felt the need to drink tonight. His shift had been a disaster. Distracted by his worry that he'd ruined things with Elsie, he'd mixed up orders and broken half a dozen glasses. He was lucky that his past job performance saved him from being sacked on the spot._

 _After locking up, Charles decided he was not ready to go home. His thoughts were too jumbled. If he had to speak to Elsie tonight, he could not think what he would say. There were too many unanswered questions. Were their activities of the afternoon just the byproduct of a mutual drought in their love lives? Had they just been filling the needs of a moment? Or was there the potential for something more? Was he even ready for a serious relationship at this point in his life?_

 _One thing Charles did know; it hadn't felt like a mistake. But what if Elsie felt differently? Charles wasn't sure he could convince her that he agreed. It was best if he came home well after she was asleep. So, instead of going home, Charles joined some of the other bartenders and wait staff at a Kentish Town club with a 24-hour license. Initially, his attendance presented some novelty for the regulars, especially the waitresses who harbored varying levels of crushes on the tall bartender. However, once it became clear that Charles was just there to drink and brood in the corner, the girls left him alone._

 _Eventually, Charles was simply too exhausted to continue avoiding the flat and headed home. Charles tried not to make any noise as he crept down the dark hallway to his room. He waited until the door was closed fully behind him before risking any light. After flipping the switch, Charles saw something on his bed. His clothes from earlier sat neatly folded in a tiny pile._

 _"Breakfast at The Dog and Duck?" Read the note on top of the clothes. Charles smiled at her simple invitation. For the first time in hours, Charles felt a whisper of optimism about his current situation. This was Elsie, after all. She was so sensible, she was bound to have a plan already. Resolved to follow her lead, Charles pushed the clothes aside and flopped into bed. Whatever tomorrow brought, he felt confident that he and Elsie could face it together._

 _TBC..._

* * *

 **AN/ There will be two very pivotal conversations in the next update (whenever that may be- I'm done promising because I'm terrible at anticipating life). I'm pretty sure there are typos in here, but I'm rushing the posting. Please let me know if there is anything glaring.  
**

 **[ETA- Earlier comment about Bday was totally wrong- my brain is broken]**


	6. Part Six

_Still London… Twenty years ago…_

 _Charles woke early, despite the previous late night. His optimism from only a few hours ago was gone. All he felt now was fear and dread. This day would likely end with Elsie angry with him, he told himself. He would be lucky to escape with their friendship intact. Still, Charles was not a man to run from his mistakes. He would face the music and own his share of the folly._

 _Now the question was what does one wear to such an appointment?_

 _Elsie took particular care dressing that morning. In the end, she selected a layered look with a plain white t-shirt, light blue blouse, plaid skirt, and tights. Considering herself in the mirror, she felt confident that she'd struck just the right balance between tasteful and seductive. It was hard to predict how this conversation with Charlie would go and she wanted to be prepared for any outcome. Elsie knew her own mind. She did not want a full relationship with all its attendant complications, but she hoped they might mutually agree to a casual sexual relationship. She anticipated that Charlie would be hesitant and, though she would never trick him into doing something he didn't want, she was prepared to give him a nudge in the right direction if given the chance._

 _She found Charles sitting in the kitchen staring forlornly into a cup of dull brown liquid that was either weak coffee or strong tea. Elsie paused in the doorway to watch him before he could notice her. Charles wore his usual weekend attire of jeans, chambray shirt, and Adidas trainers. Of course, he wore a leather belt with the shirt tucked in and buttoned all the way to the very top button._

 _Elsie felt a moment of despair. Forget about casual sex, Charlie Carson doesn't even have casual clothes, she thought to herself._

 _"You can still run if you like," Elsie offered as she officially entered the kitchen. She noted with some pride that his countenance brightened when he saw her. "I'll give you a head start."_

 _"There's no need," Charles grinned crookedly at her. "With these long legs and your worthless shoes, I won't need a head start."_

 _"Ass," Elsie tsked at him. "Let's hope you're more pleasant after a good breakfast."_

 _Their easy banter eased Charles' tension somewhat. The mention of breakfast banished it completely. He followed her cheerfully enough out the front door and down the stairs._

 _"Oh, I have a surprise for you," Elsie announced grandly._

 _"Another one?" Charles asked in confusion. The last twenty-four hours had been full of surprises._

 _"A new umbrella!" She produced said object from inside her coat with much fanfare. Charles scowled at the bunch of fabric she held out to him. For starters, it was one of those collapsible monstrosities that would fit in a woman's purse. In Charles' opinion, no self-respecting Englishman would be caught dead with such an abomination. To make matters worse, the fabric was a blinding pattern of stripes with alternating neon green and hot pink._

 _"I forgot I had this," Elsie beamed._

 _"Wherever did you acquire that?" Charles wondered as he reluctantly accepted her gift._

 _"A bank set up a booth at the university. Can you believe they were just giving these away?"_

 _"I can well believe it," Charles muttered. He assumed the bank had boxes of these dreadful creations left over from some promotion in the Eighties._

 _"Oh, just come on," Elsie chuckled. "You know how crowded The Duck gets on Sundays. We don't want to be seated at the bar."_

 _She started off down the street at a brisk pace before he could argue. He had no choice but to carry the garish umbrella as he followed her off to their local, The Dog and Duck._

 _Charles, Elsie, and Beryl had first tried The Dog and Duck because it shared the name of a beloved pub from Downton, but they kept going back for the excellent food; especially breakfast. With everyone on tight budgets, eating breakfast out was a special treat for the roommates. They only indulged in the extravagance every few months._

 _Charles caught up to Elsie halfway down the block. "Before we get to the pub, Elsie, I want to apologize."_

 _"For what? I hope you're not sorry about yesterday. I'm not."_

 _"No, I'm not sorry…per se, but I do feel guilty…" Charles grasped for the right words. It was a physical struggle during which Elsie waited patiently. "I should not have allowed my better reason to be overruled by base desire. I apologize if I've taken advantage of our friendship."_

 _"If you did, it was because I allowed you to," Elsie told him calmly._

 _"But I should have known better. It was for me to put a stop to it before we were carried away," Charles admitted. "I should have been more protective of you."_

 _"Why?" Elsie asked peevishly. "Because you're the man?"_

 _"No…not entirely," he answered nervously. "But I do feel responsible for you."_

 _Elsie shot him a warning glance._

 _"And for Beryl," Charles added hastily. "I'm the eldest of the group, after all."_

 _"That's not reason enough," Elsie said skeptically. She sensed there was more to it than he was saying._

 _"Well, before we left Yorkshire, Beryl's mum ordered me to look after the two of you," Charles confessed. "She's not a woman I'd like to cross."_

 _"No, nor I," Elsie agreed._

 _"Well, I don't think this is what she had in mind."_

 _"I'd guarantee it," Elsie chuckled. Charles began to frown which made Elsie stop teasing. "Oh, Charlie, do you really think that you took advantage of me yesterday?"_

 _"No. If I'd thought that…"_

 _"You would have stopped," Elsie supplied with an understanding nod. "And if I'd wanted you to stop…"_

 _"You would have told me," Charles completed her sentence in return._

 _"Exactly, so let's hear no more of this nonsense of people being taken advantage of. We're both consenting adults."_

 _They'd reached the large, brass handled doors to the pub. Charles held one side open for Elsie. She accepted his act of chivalry with an ironic grin._

 _"And no more serious talk until I have my Bloody Mary," Elsie ordered with a winning smile. Charles nodded his agreement._

 _The pub was already doing a cracking business at this early hour, but they procured a small table located in an awkward corner. The ambient noise was too loud for intimate conversation, so they limited themselves to banal small talk for most of the meal. Elsie did so with more ease than Charles, but he managed not to cast too great a pall over breakfast._

 _After the first wave of customers were served, the place quieted. People were too busy eating to make much racket. Charles had only eaten half of his food when he began just pushing it around the plate. His stomach was too unsettled, like his mind, for a full meal. Elsie noticed when he stopped eating and deemed it was time to start The Talk._

 _"It's going to be alright, Charlie," Elsie promised him. She reached across and placed her hand over his. "We're going to be alright."_

 _"I know," Charles agreed with forced confidence._

 _"Do you?" Elsie challenged gently. "Because you don't look so sure."_

 _"If I weren't sure, I wouldn't have been able to eat a single bite." He emphasized this declaration by taking a huge quaff of his heretofore untouched ale._

 _"So, what comes next do you think?" Elsie asked, giving him the chance to take the lead._

 _Charles shrugged hopelessly. "I'd hoped you might have some idea, because…I haven't the foggiest."_

 _"What do you want?" Elsie prompted._

 _"I guess I want things to be the way they've always been between us."_

 _"Without the sex part?"_

 _Charles was clearly perplexed. "Doesn't that go without saying?"_

 _"Not necessarily," Elsie said enigmatically._

 _"Not… Elsie, what are you saying? Surely you don't want us to be… We're neither of us looking for a relationship," Charles stammered. Elsie saw the fear in his eyes and tried not to be insulted._

 _"No, I've seen our schedules for next term. Between classes and work neither of us has more than six free hours in a day."_

 _"And those are between midnight and six A.M." Charles affirmed._

 _"Exactly, so we don't have time for a relationship per se, but…there are different degrees of friendship."_

 _"And what degree of friendship includes sex?" Charles wondered with shock._

 _Elsie's exterior calm hid her inner nervousness. This was the moment. Would he accept what she was offering? She did know better than to use the term Beryl would have used. Charles Carson would never agree to their being 'fuck buddies'._

 _"Surely you've heard of 'friends with benefits'."_

 _"I've heard the phrase, but I never thought it was a real thing," Charles acknowledged warily._

 _"I assure you it is."_

 _Charles looked unconvinced. "How does it work exactly?"_

 _"Nothing changes…during the day."_

 _"And at night?"_

 _"We are free to enjoy each other's company; like we did yesterday."_

 _"But it isn't considered a romantic relationship?"_

 _"No. There's none of the expectations that come with romance. No commitment. No strings. Either of us can end it at any time without giving a reason."_

 _Charles did not answer right away. His brows were knit together in consternation. He drank the rest of his beer thoughtfully before signaling their waitress for another. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stared blankly at his plate. The seconds ticked uncomfortably by. Elsie finished her Bloody Mary and munched nervously on the celery stalk._

 _"Elsie…" he started to speak just as the waitress brought his beer. He went silent again as she took away their plates and confirmed Elsie didn't need another round._

 _"It was just a suggestion," Elsie back peddled. "As you said, neither of us has time for a conventional relationship. Still, we're human and we're young…and the sex was good."_

 _Charles couldn't argue with any of that. "We've always worked well together," Charles muttered lamely._

 _"Yesterday happened because neither of us have had sex in eons," Elsie reasoned. "We have needs. I don't know about you, but I'd rather have an arrangement with someone I trust than resort to a series of meaningless, one night stands."_

 _"It works for…some people," Charles argued. He didn't mention Beryl by name, but he didn't need to._

 _"People are different. Some people can separate physical and emotional intimacy, but you and I aren't wired that way, Charlie."_

 _"No," he agreed. "But, Elsie, this doesn't sound like an arrangement involving two rational people. It sounds more like the premise for a bad RomCom."_

 _"I dunno, I think Hugh Grant could make it work," Elsie joked._

 _"You aren't taking this seriously," Charles grumbled._

 _"That's the point, to not take it too seriously."_

 _"Is our friendship just a joke to you?"_

 _"No!" Elsie exclaimed. "Far from it!"_

 _"Then how can you be so glib?" His scowl looked painful now. "I said that I don't regret what we did, but I will regret it if it costs me your friendship. I won't risk that.""_

 _Elsie knew she was beaten. Her suggestion was too radical and Charles' sense of propriety was too ingrained._

 _"Look, it was just an idea," Elsie sighed. "I knew it was a crazy notion. Just forget that I said anything."_

 _"But… what about yesterday?"_

 _"Just forget that too," Elsie said curtly. She waved the waitress over. "Two checks, please."_

 _Charles tried to protest, but Elsie gave him a severe look that silenced him. "Nothing has changed," Elsie insisted, her features softening. Charles nodded sadly. They sat in silence until the waitress returned. They paid their separate tabs and left the table._

 _On the sidewalk outside Elsie and Charles stood awkwardly. "What now?" He asked with his hands jammed into his pockets. It made him slouch and look very unlike his usual upright self._

 _"I was going to head over to the Kirk," Elsie shrugged noncommittally. "They're having a bring and buy today."_

 _"May I join you?" Charles inquired sheepishly._

 _Elsie considered for a moment before smiling and nodding. "Why not?"_

 _They ambled along cordially enough for a few blocks. Finally, Charles asked, "Are you looking to replace your shoes?"_

 _"I was thinking about it," Elsie answered cautiously. Talking about her shoes brought to mind the events of yesterday. "Why?"_

 _"I only thought if we were, we might want to check some of the dumpsters on our way to the church," he teased with a broad grin._

 _"Charlie Carson, you are an ass," Elsie informed him with an indulgent smile that told him everything would be alright in the end._

 _At the bring and buy Charles and Elsie enjoyed themselves immensely. Perusing the odds and ends displayed on the various tables together helped them reestablish their usual, easy manner with each other. Charles took a liking to a vintage bowler hat that Elsie thought made him look quite dapper._

 _"Go on," Elsie encouraged him as she removed the gigantic ladies hat she'd been trying on. "It's only two quid."_

 _"Where would I wear it?"_

 _"Halloween? Weddings? Parliament?" She offered facetiously. Still, Charles was convinced. While he was purchasing the hat, Elsie picked up a pair of silk gloves and tried unsuccessfully to put them on. "Women were certainly tiny back then, weren't they? They would have thought me a monster with my massive mitts."_

 _"Your hands are perfectly fine," Charles assured her. "But you would likely have frightened the proper ladies of the time for other reasons."_

 _"Such as?"_

 _"Your independence, for one," Charles answered honestly. "And your choice of footwear for another."_

 _Indeed, Elsie had found a pair of ridiculously colored canvas shoes. Order had been restored._

 _After this important find, they came to a table piled with a jumble of tarnished silver from various servings. Charles couldn't help but start to match up pieces from the same serving set. He impressed Elsie with his knowledge of the different patterns and utensils._

 _"This is a pretty for salt, but I can't find the matching pepper," Elsie noted picking up a small silver pod on a pedestal. Given the holes on the top, she was certain that she'd identified it correctly._

 _"Actually, that's a sugar shaker."_

 _"It's not for salt?"_

 _"No, that's a Victorian silver pattern and they didn't have shakers for salt in that era. The salt caked too much to keep it like we do today. This…is the matching salt cellar." He found the corresponding cellar, complete with spoon and lid._

 _He dug around the table and picked up a simple looking piece._

 _"Do you know what this is?"_

 _"I should bloody well hope so, Charlie," Elsie laughed at him. "It's a spoon."_

 _"Ah, but what kind of spoon?"_

 _"I don't know. A round one?"_

 _"True, but, more specifically, it is a bouillon spoon," Charles declared grandly, wrapping his wonderful voice around the vowels in bouillon._

 _"I thought soup spoons were the same as table spoons."_

 _"Ah, so they are, but not for bouillon which is drunk from a smaller dish." Charles demonstrated the act with a delicate flick of his wrist._

 _"I don't have to ask how you know all of this," Elsie chuckled. "You sounded exactly like your father just now."_

 _"I could properly set a table for an eight course meal before I was seven," Charles shared with a nostalgic smile. "I was raised to believe that if a Carson ever misidentified a piece of cutlery, England as we know it would cease to exist."_

 _"I'm willing to bet it wouldn't," Elsie assured him._

 _"But why risk it?" Charles asked philosophically._

 _After they'd finished at the sale, they caught the bus back to their neighborhood. Sitting side by side on the bus, Charles and Elsie tried to avoid touching, but the jostling motion of the bus made it impossible. With just this small amount of physical contact, the awkwardness returned. They practically sprinted off the bus when it reached their stop._

 _Back on solid ground, with a respectable distance between them, Charles found that he could breathe easy again._

 _"Oh, I never thanked you for folding my clothes," Charles said clumsily. "You didn't have to do that."_

 _"I think I did, after hearing you lecture Beryl on the sins of not immediately folding clothes removed from the dryer a dozen times."_

 _"That's because she takes out my load to put her own in and dumps my clothes in the corner to wrinkle," Charles groused. "Yesterday was different."_

 _"Well, you're welcome. And thank you for not ruining my delicates in the washer."_

 _Charles blushed slightly. "I wasn't sure what to do with them, but I was pretty sure you don't just throw them in with the rest."_

 _"You've good instincts when it comes to bras and knickers," Elsie tried to joke, but it came out sounding too risqué._

 _They walked in uneasy silence._

 _"Um, Elsie, about your 'friends with benefits' proposal," Charles blurted out clumsily._

 _"It's alright, Charlie, just forget it," she soothed kindly._

 _"It's not that I don't want…I mean, obviously, who wouldn't want…?"_

 _"You don't have to explain," she protested._

 _"But I need to," he insisted. "The thing is… my father taught me about more than cutlery."_

 _"Oh?" Elsie was confused how his father might factor into his decision._

 _"Yes, he also taught me that when something sounds too good to be true, it probably is."_

 _"How does that apply here?"_

 _"Unlimited sex with a beautiful woman with no strings attached? In my book that's too good to be true."_

 _"I never said 'unlimited'," Elsie corrected him with a half smile._

 _"No? I'm pretty sure that's what I heard," Charles joked charmingly._

 _"Well, men always hear what they want to hear,"_ _Elsie chuckled._

 _"It just seems like someone is bound to get hurt," Charles said, suddenly serious again. He didn't want to hurt Elsie, but he also did not want to be hurt. To be honest, he thought the latter much more likely than the former. "Things always get messy when relationships end."_

 _"We wouldn't let that happen," Elsie claimed simply._

 _"You can't promise that," Charles objected, yet he was curious. "How could we prevent it?"_

 _"By being honest with each other and always putting our friendship first," Elsie explained. "We go in already knowing that it's going to end."_

 _"Assume it's going to end?"  
_

 _"It's bound to, isn't it?" Elsie reasoned. "Eventually, the novelty will wear off… or one of us will find someone else…"_

 _"And when that happens?"_

 _"One of us will say, 'In the interest of preserving our friendship, we can't sleep together anymore.' And it will be over."_

 _"Just like that?"_

 _"Just like that."_

 _Charles was quiet as they approached their building. Elsie let him have the time to think. She recognized the look of a man trying to justify something he wants._

 _"I'd be a terrible boyfriend," Charles declared suddenly._

 _"I know. And I'd be a terrible girlfriend," Elsie agreed. "But I don't want a boyfriend and you don't want a girlfriend."_

 _Charles harrumphed a noncommittal answer. They arrived at their building._

 _"What would we tell Beryl?" He wondered as they ascended the stairs._

 _"Nothing. It's none of her business." Elsie hid her smile. Whether Charles realized it or not, he'd made his decision._

 _"She'll figure it out," Charles predicted._

 _"Maybe, but it's still none of her business," Elsie reasoned._

 _"And nothing will change between us? Except the…obvious?" Charles asked incredulously._

 _"Nothing will change except when we're alone."_

 _"We've been alone all day," Charles pointed out._

 _"Yes, but we were doing 'friend' things."_

 _"How do we separate the friend stuff from the benefits?" Charles wondered. He removed his new hat and hung it on the coat tree by the door along with his coat and the hideous umbrella. He followed Elsie into the tv room._

 _"I think it will be pretty evident," Elsie claimed vaguely as she sat upon the couch. "Like now, for instance."_

 _"What about now?" Charles sat beside her, close beside her._

 _"Well, we're alone." She placed her hand on his knee. "And Beryl isn't due back for hours…"_

 _"You're suggesting there's time for…"_

 _"Some casual fun? Yes, I am suggesting that," Elsie confirmed, moving her hand up his leg._

 _"You speak so easily of casual fun," Charles observed huskily. His face was flushed and his pupils were growing. "But I don't really do casual."_

 _Elsie looked up at this earnest man with his chambray shirt fastened all the way up to the collar. He looked like a college professor trying to be cool. All he needed was a tie to complete the effect. She reached up and unbuttoned that very top button._

 _"That's okay, Charlie. We can work on that."_

 _TBC…_

* * *

 **AN/ So, my New Year's resolution to update more regularly is off to a terrible start, but I'll try to be better.**

 **Note on the confusing timings… I am dealing with 3 basic time frames; The Present, 6 weeks before the Present, and 20 years before the Present (and the timing skips around there too). The fight they had in the last update was 6 weeks before the Present. We'll be going back to that argument next update. I hope that helps.**


	7. Part Seven

Six Weeks ago…Yorkshire…

Elsie stood in the middle of the room contemplating her history with Charles and her empty glass.

For several months after establishing their 'arrangement', things had gone swimmingly. Charles and Elsie maintained two separate relationships; platonic and physical; public and private. Perhaps it was this early success which caused them to lower their guards. In some ways, it was a subtle shift, but Elsie saw now exactly when the two worlds ceased being separate. In fact, she could trace it back to three specific nights

-I-

Twenty Years ago… London…

 _Charles came home that night well after midnight. Elsie and Beryl were sat on the couch watching 'The Princess Bride' yet again. It was the only movie they owned. Being the end of the month, neither of them had the fifty pence needed to rent something new from the local video store._

 _Looking up from her spot on the couch she could tell he was moving awkwardly, almost limping. At her look of concern he just waved a hand and smiled. Respecting his wishes Elsie let the matter slide. Beryl noticed nothing of what passed between her roommates._

 _"Join us, Charlie," Beryl invited him over her shoulder without actually looking away from the screen._

 _"Thank you, but I think I'll go straight to bed tonight," Charles politely declined._

 _"But they're about to storm the castle," Beryl informed him._

 _"Good luck with that," Charles returned with a wry smile before tottering off towards his room._

 _Elsie and Beryl laughed as, on screen, Miracle Max echoed Charles' sentiment. Charles had seen the movie almost as many times as Beryl and Elsie._

 _"Must have had a hard night at the restaurant," Beryl remarked. "He loves quoting along with Indigo."_

 _"Mmhm," Elsie agreed distractedly._

 _Forty minutes later, the movie was over and Beryl and Elsie bid each other goodnight. Elsie debated her options as she brushed her teeth. She wanted to check in on Charles. Though 'turning in early' had sometimes been used between them as a coded signal, Elsie knew that was not Charles' sentiment tonight. Also, Elsie was not currently motivated by desire. She was concerned about him as a friend._

 _Her knock was answered by a muffled grunt that Elsie interpreted as an invitation. She ducked quickly into the room and found Charles sitting on the edge of his bed. He wore his shorts, his sleeveless undershirt, and a pained expression bordering on the pathetic. His hands were behind him on the bed, as if supporting him._

 _"I'm sorry, Els, but I don't think I'll be worth very much tonight," he apologized tragically before she could speak._

 _"That's not why I'm here," Elsie assured him. Charles looked a little disappointed at this news. "I saw you moving tenderly when you came in. Is everything alright?"_

 _"Just a day of backbreaking labor." Charles shrugged his shoulders and winced. "It's embarrassing really. I should be in shape for this, but…"_

 _It was now that Elsie realized Charles' arms were actually trapped behind him, stuck in his half removed shirtsleeves. Elsie moved to the bed in order to help him as she remarked, "You make cocktails and pour wine. How did you manage to hurt yourself?"_

 _"I'm not injured, just sore," Charles informed her defensively. "And this isn't from mixing cocktails. Today Mssr. Maurice asked for a volunteer to help him with the annual inventory of the cellar. He handles it personally. I jumped at the chance. I should have been suspicious when no one else volunteered."_

 _Elsie gingerly extracted Charles' hands from their cotton handcuffs. He sat forward with a grateful sigh and rolled his shoulders. Elsie remained on the bed beside him._

 _"I moved every crate, magnum, and Methuselah in the place," Charles groaned even as his smile broadened. "There was even one Nebuchadnezzar."_

 _"A what?"_

 _"Nebuchadnezzar; an enormous bottle that holds fifteen liters of wine," Charles informed her._

 _"That's a lot of wine," Elsie conceded with an impressed expression. "I hope it was worth it," Elsie chided as she tossed his shirt towards his hamper._

 _"Oh, it was. I spent four hours talking with a man who has forgotten more about wine than I will ever learn. I picked his brain and even showcased some of my own feeble knowledge. Before today, I was just the bartender who didn't need a ladder to reach the top shelf spirits. Now, I'm the early favorite for the junior sommelier scholarship."_

 _"Charlie, that's huge! Congratulations!" Elsie hugged him but stopped when he tensed from the ache._

 _"I wish I were in shape to celebrate properly," Charles flirted feebly._

 _"Did you take anything? I can fetch you aspirin," Elsie offered without acknowledging his flirtation._

 _"Thank you, but I took some at the restaurant."_

 _Desperate to help him, Elsie climbed on the bed and knelt behind him. She began to caress his back and arms._

 _"You don't have to do that," Charles protested despite enjoying her attentions._

 _"I know, but at least let me give you a rub down."_

 _"I told you, I'm in no shape for that tonight," Charles teased._

 _"Shut up and lie down, Mr. Carson," Elsie ordered with mock seriousness._

 _"Your foreplay could use some work, Ms. Hughes," Charles joked, but obeyed._

 _Elsie appeared to ignore him, but nimbly straddled Charles as he lay face down on his bed. She began to massage his shoulders. Charles groaned appreciatively. Still working on his shoulders, Elsie leaned forward until her mouth was just beside his ear._

 _"Men who complain about foreplay soon find they have nothing to complain about," Elsie cautioned in a seductive whisper._

 _"I take it back!" Charles exclaimed with a chuckle._

 _"I thought you might," Elsie answered smugly. She sat up again and proceeded over the next half hour to knead and work Charles' sore muscles. Finally, content she had done all she could, Elsie climbed off of Charles and stood beside the bed. Charles appeared asleep, but he opened his eyes before she could turn to leave. He didn't speak, but reached a hand out to her. She took it, curious as to what he intended._

 _Still holding her hand, Charles sat up. He pushed back the bedclothes and climbed between the sheets. With a gentle tug, he beckoned her to join him._

 _"Are you feeling better then?" She questioned._

 _"Much." He patted the mattress beside him playfully._

 _"Well enough for…?"_

 _"Maybe in the morning," Charles hedged meekly. "But you can still stay with me tonight."_

 _Elsie was vaguely aware that she was blurring the line of demarcation between their two clearly defined worlds. Nevertheless, she climbed into his bed and nuzzled warmly against Charles' chest. The next morning, Elsie left before Charles awoke. It was the first night they slept together without making love. It was not the last._

-II-

 _Several days later Elsie smiled sadly to herself when she heard his eager knock at her door. She hadn't been home more than fifteen minutes but Elsie was already in bed and ready for sleep._

 _"Hey, stranger," Charles greeted her cheerfully. He entered her room and closed the door behind him. He was wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a faded t-shirt advertising Jägermeister. "How've you been?"_

 _"Busy," she admitted with a weary smile._

 _"I noticed." Charles moved towards the bed, but Elsie stopped him with a raised hand._

 _"Now's not a good time, Charlie."_

 _"Oh, of course, you've only just come home," Charles apologized. "I can come back later, if you like."_

 _"That's not what I meant. It's a bad time…" Elsie blushed. "Of the month."_

 _"Oh! Oh, I see…Yes… I should have known…" Charles floundered a bit before surprising Elsie by suddenly declaring, "Well, that doesn't really matter."_

 _"I beg your pardon?" She now noticed that he was holding a small bundle which looked like a towel._

 _From behind the towel, Charles pulled out a little paper bag with the words 'Body Shop' stamped on it._

 _"I've been looking for the opportunity to thank you for helping me with my sore back a few days ago."_

 _"There's no need to thank me," Elsie insisted warily._

 _"Even so," Charles opened the bag and extracted a small, metallic tube._

 _"Peppermint foot rub?" Elsie read the label._

 _"I overheard you complaining to Beryl last week about how your feet have been hurting from the long hours standing at work and then walking home."_

 _"So you bought me foot rub?"_

 _"As you see," Charles confirmed._

 _"Well, thank you," Elsie smiled wearily and held out her hand to accept the offering._

 _"I actually envisioned being more than just a delivery boy," Charles grinned sheepishly._

 _"Charlie, are you offering to rub my feet?" Elsie asked disbelievingly._

 _Charles nodded with shy enthusiasm. "The lady at the store gave me this." Charles held up a cardboard pamphlet with the outline of a foot on it. "Eastern medicine has mapped the pressure points on one's feet. Each part of the foot is linked to another part of the body. Imagine that!"_

 _Elsie watched with bemusement as Charles walked to the foot of her bed. She tried to picture Charles in a Body Shop, let alone talking to a saleswoman about foot massage techniques._

 _"May I?" Charles asked, indicating her duvet. Elsie nodded. He lifted the duvet and pulled loose the top sheet to expose her feet. He then attempted to lie across the end of her bed, but either it was too short or he was too long. In the end, he settled with his torso along the base of her bed and his legs stretched up parallel to her body._

 _Charles set the pamphlet aside for reference, unrolled the towel at her feet, and produced a washcloth from his kit. He reached for her nearest foot. Elsie withdrew both feet quickly; bringing her knees almost to her chest._

 _"What's the problem?" Charles wondered. "I need to wash your feet first. It's just a washcloth with warm water."_

 _"I'm ticklish," Elsie warned._

 _"I know," Charles smirked with a quick bounce of his eyebrows._

 _"No, I mean my feet are especially ticklish. If you aren't careful, I may kick you out of reflex."_

 _"Consider me warned." Charles held out a hand and Elsie slowly extended her right foot to him._

 _The cloth was warm and only slightly damp. He wiped one foot and then the other, setting them on the flattened towel when he was done. Elsie flinched as the cloth tickled her but Charles held her ankle steady in his gently firm grip. Charles studied the reflexology card intently as he squirted a small dollop of foot cream onto his palm to warm. Elsie watched him with a bemused smile. He was taking this all very seriously. Having decided upon a plan of attack, Charles applied the cream to the bottom of her foot and began his work in earnest._

 _His touch was tentative at first, but he gained confidence as he progressed. Elsie's hums and sighs of enjoyment served as ample encouragement. When he moved to the other foot, Charles was sure enough to divide his attention between his task and conversation._

 _"Did you see the message that your Mum called earlier?" He asked offhandedly._

 _"Mmhm," Elsie responded lazily. "I saw the note. Did you speak to her?"_

 _"No, Beryl had that privilege. They talked for over twenty minutes."_

 _"What could my Mam have to discuss with Beryl for so long?" Elsie wondered rhetorically._

 _"Probably discussing your Mum's favorite subject; you," Charles teased._

 _Elsie rolled her eyes at his jest but could not contradict him. She knew that her mother was proud of her, sometimes to an embarrassing degree._

 _"It must put a lot of pressure on you, being the first in your family to attend university," Charles commented sympathetically._

 _"But I'm not the first," she corrected him. "I'm only the first to graduate. My Mam attended local college and spent one term in Edinburgh before she married Da."_

 _"Really? But she didn't graduate?" Charles was surprised by this information. "Was she…forced to marry him?"_

 _"You mean was she in trouble? No, nothing so cliché as that," Elsie assured him with a small laugh. "Though it would explain why she insisted I start birth control before I left Scotland."_

 _Charles almost commented that he was glad her Mum had insisted, but instead he asked, "What happened?"_

 _"My parents were childhood sweethearts and had been engaged since they were both seventeen. They agreed to wait to marry until she finished her degree. She wanted to study law. They'd done well while she was taking basic courses at the local college and Da worked on the farm, but after her term in Edinburgh Da saw how difficult it was to maintain any kind of relationship. She couldn't focus on her studies and have any time for him. He was hurt, but tried to be understanding. While she was home between terms, he offered to release her from their engagement."_

 _Charles watched Elsie's face keenly. She was biting her lip and watching her hands as she twisted them in her lap. He couldn't be sure how she felt about the story she was telling._

 _"The day she was due to return to Edinburgh my father went to the station to see her off, but she wasn't there. He assumed she'd taken an earlier train in order to avoid him, but he found her waiting at the farm when he arrived home. She had her suitcase with her. She told him she wasn't returning to Edinburgh, but she wasn't going back home either. She moved to the farm that day. They were married the next week."_

 _Charles waited a few moments before observing, "That's rather romantic."_

 _"They think so," Elsie agreed wistfully. "Mam loves to tell that story. She always ends it with, 'And I never regretted my decision; not for one second.'"_

 _"But you don't find the story as charming as they do?" Charles discerned._

 _Elsie shrugged uncomfortably. "I dunno. If our family arguments are anything to go by, she would have done well in the law. She could have been a barrister or a judge, but she chose to be a wife and mother. I know it isn't for me to approve or disapprove of her decision, but I've always…I guess I just never understood it."_

 _"Because it isn't the choice you'd have made?"_

 _"I don't understand how anyone who had experienced Edinburgh would be content with our little corner of Scotland."_

 _"It's a small town then?" Charles had rarely heard Elsie speak of her home town._

 _"Downton is a bustling metropolis compared to where I grew up," Elsie admitted with a derisive chuckle. "We were isolated on the farm; only seeing our neighbors at school or at church. I couldn't wait to get out."_

 _"You're not planning to ever go back then?"_

 _"I couldn't even if I wanted to," she sighed. "I'm not that farm girl anymore."_

 _"The city has altered you," Charles confirmed. "As it's altered me. And what would be the point of living if we didn't let life change us?"_

 _"But my Mam chose life on the farm after only one term away," Elsie frowned._

 _"Didn't she deserve to make her own decision?"_

 _"She was nineteen," Elsie stated as if that explained everything. "How could she abandon her education when she was so young?"_

 _"They were different times," Charles suggested._

 _"That's just it! This was a time when a woman qualifying to study law was something truly remarkable. She was a bright lass and everyone said she was destined to do big things. She had a chance to be more than a farmer's wife," Elsie sighed._

 _"But she's been happy?" Charles asked._

 _"Yes, there's no doubting that. It isn't as though she's been bored. She found ample outlet for her skills. My Mam has served on almost every committee and board in the county, and my Da dotes on her. He could never deny her anything," Elsie smiled as she related. "They've both been very happy together; even with the challenges of raising a daughter like Becky."_

 _"I have a feeling their other daughter was just as challenging," Charles smiled._

 _Elsie gave him a warning scowl which soon dissolved into a smile._

 _"Now, your feet are all done," Charles announced proudly. He held up a small pair of ankle socks which he began to slip onto her feet. "If you wear these tonight, when you wake up in the morning, your feet will be as soft as a baby's bum."_

 _After the second sock was in place, Charles gave her foot a playful tickle. Reflexively, Elsie kicked out and caught Charles square in the chest with her heel. It knocked the wind out of him with a dull 'oof'._

 _Elsie immediately sat up and joined him at the base of her bed where Charles rubbed at his chest and winced comically._

 _"Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry," Elsie apologized and fussed over him. Elsie's hands roamed his face, neck, and shoulders as if checking for injury. He grinned at her concern._

 _"I suppose I deserved that," Charles joked as he regained his breath. "I was warned."_

 _"But you didn't deserve to be kicked, not after-"_

 _The rest of her sentiment was silenced as Charles kissed her pouting lips. It was a simple kiss that demanded nothing, but hoped for more. When they separated, Elsie shook her head in silent apology. Charles understood her reticence but he wasn't willing to give up so easily._

 _"I know there are…limitations," he acknowledged. "But that doesn't mean I have to leave this very moment. Does it?"_

 _Technically, Charles was correct. They could just lie on her bed and make out. It could be innocent enough and enjoyable, but Elsie's mind resisted. It was too much like something a boyfriend and girlfriend might do. It was a behavior that belonged in the no man's land between friendship and sex; territory they'd promised to avoid. Intellectually, she knew it was a mistake. However, looking into his soft, bedroom eyes, Elsie's last protestations died._

 _"Stay on your side of the blanket," she instructed in a whisper._

 _When Charles left an hour later, Elsie decided that she didn't mind making an error every now and then. Still, she was determined that the proper order of things must be restored. They could not continue down this pathway towards a serious relationship._

-III-

 **[AN- The following section is M rated. Skip to the next update if you are offended by adult situations and language.]**

 _It was almost a week later before Elsie found an opportunity to reestablish the boundaries they'd agreed upon. Wearing her robe, Elsie snuck down the hallway to Charles' room after bidding Beryl a goodnight. Charles did not notice when she entered his room. He was sat at his desk wearing headphones, engrossed in the writing of his final project paper. His references spread out before him; Charles was taking notes in preparation for typing up the paper in the computer lab on campus the next day._

 _Elsie hesitated briefly before deciding to interrupt him. This was not a moment to be considerate. This was the moment to ignore their friendship and reclaim the selfish anonymity of their physical relationship. Elsie crossed the room with a few light steps. She reached around and turned off the radio to which Charles' headphones were attached. Confused, Charles looked up at the radio and saw Elsie. His frown instantly became a smile. Charles opened his mouth to speak, but Elsie shook her head and shushed him with a finger to her lips. Intrigued, Charles kept silent and watched her._

 _Elsie stepped back away from the desk and towards the bed. Charles' smile grew. It had been two weeks since they'd made love and he had missed her terribly. Elsie turned down the bed and slipped out of her robe, beneath which she wore only a pair of white, cotton panties. She returned to the desk where Charles sat on the edge of his chair. The look in his eyes was pure lust; exactly the reaction she wished to elicit. Charles ripped off his shirt as she approached. She saw his wide chest rise and fall with his excited breath. He now wore only his boxers. Through the thin material, Elsie could see his eager response to her. She reached the desk and, without preamble, she straddled Charles and kissed him hard on the lips. She ground insistently against him._

 _Though he was startled by her behavior, Charles was not one to eschew good fortune when it literally landed in his lap. He returned her fervent affections enthusiastically. He nuzzled wet kisses behind her ear and fondled her breasts with a roving hand. Charles felt reason abandoning him as their passion intensified. He willingly surrendered control to his feral instincts. He would never remember how they reached the bed or how their last scraps of clothing ended up on the floor. Such trivial details were lost in the haze of lust that possessed him._

 _Things progressed quickly. Foreplay was an unnecessary nicety eschewed by both parties. She was wet. He was hard. End of story._

 _Elsie climaxed before Charles, but only just. She smiled with self-satisfaction as she urged him to his finish with the rolling of her hips. This had been exactly what Elsie planned. The sweating, pulsing body that moved over her now was generic; faceless. She felt him complete and fall still. They'd each taken what they needed physically and there it ended. They hadn't made love. This had been a good, old-fashioned fuck. Order had been restored. The entire encounter had taken less than ten minutes._

 _His body still covered her, but soon, he would roll off of her and she could make her escape. She lay with her eyes closed, waiting for her moment._ Grab your robe and go, _she told herself._ Don't look back.

 _Elsie felt him relaxing above her. She tensed, ready to bolt at the earliest opportunity. She couldn't leave any opening for sentiment to rear its ugly head in this situation. She could not claim victory until she was alone and safe in her own bed._

 _His body began to shift off to the side, but his hand moved up her body to her face. Before Elsie could extract herself from his embrace, Charles swept a sweaty lock of hair from her forehead with his thumb and placed a gentle kiss to her cooling brow. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw him smiling adoringly down at her. With this simple act, Elsie was undone. She felt a new shudder of satisfaction ripple through her body which had nothing to do with carnal pleasure. It was the warm glow of being cherished. All thoughts of flight disappeared. Her robe would be there in the morning. For now, there was nowhere Elsie wished to be but in Charles' bed, in his arms. She knew they were doomed, but she didn't care. It would all end; it was bound to, but she wanted them to be as close as two people could be for the time that remained to them. She would stop looking for the ending and simply accept the present. Elsie cuddled closer to Charles with one thought in her mind. This was a man who loved her and she trusted him completely._

 _It was this trust which made his leaving months later feel like such a betrayal._

 _TBC…_

* * *

 **AN: I have no excuse for my prolonged absence. Thank you to those of you who reached out to me in the interim. I cannot guarantee that updates will be timely. I can only promise that I will not abandon this story unfinished.**


	8. Part Eight

**RATING WARNING: This chapter contains the 'F Bomb'.**

* * *

Six weeks ago… Downton

Charles stared at her door. He imagined he could see it still vibrating from the force she'd used to slam it on him.

 _I deserved that,_ he thought to himself wryly. _I took the coward's way._

Charles was still convinced he'd been in the right to avoid her as he had done, but he knew that he should have handled the situation much differently. This was Elsie, after all; his best friend. Why couldn't he be honest with her about something so important to the both of them?

 _Because you weren't thinking of her as your best friend. You were too busy thinking of her as a woman; an attractive and desirable woman_ , Charles realized. _That's where you went wrong, mate._

Charles Carson had never understood women, and it was little wonder, given his history with the opposite sex. From his adolescence he'd been expressly forbidden by his father to date any of the girls associated with the estate. After all, Charles' father had real clout throughout the village. Any girl dating Charles might have expected privileges at or favorable treatment from the estate. Even though such perks were unlikely to actually exist, there would be the appearance of favoritism, which the senior Carson could not allow. The juvenile Charles accepted this restriction as reasonable. Unfortunately, this meant that every girl in Charles' sphere was off limits because almost every family in the village could trace their livelihood back to Downton.

He could hardly avoid interacting with the village girls, but they were never more than friends. Of course, a few of the more daring girls set their sights on Charles. After all, he was a handsome lad and considered quite the catch. These aggressive girls terrified Charles and taught him to be wary with his compliments towards women.

Charles' first, fumbling experiences with romance occurred on stolen weekends of mischief with his mates in York. Charlie Grigg was the first to have his own wheels and so it was Grigg who decided where they would go and when. On his own, Charles would not have chosen the dingy locals Grigg favored. Nor would he have accepted invitations to continue the evenings at the homes of a few friendly barmaids. But Charles was a dutiful wingman, always tagging along and entertaining 'the friend' of the lass Grigg was pursuing that evening.

These superfluous girls, whom Grigg cruelly referred to as 'grenades', were generally pleasant enough. Most were content to chat with Charles while their friend had some private time with Grigg in another room. Sometimes conversation was too much work so they just made out while they waited. Then there were the times when snogging led to other things. Charles tried to behave gentlemanly, but on these occasions, he was reminded that he was not a gentleman; he was a typical, horny teenage boy with a willing teenage lass. To his credit, Charles had tried to continue these acquaintances beyond a single encounter, but the girls were never interested in a long-term relationship with a lad from Downton who could only visit every fortnight or so. Their take on fidelity could be summed up with one phrase, 'Out of sight, out of mind.'

Grigg teased Charles for trying to maintain contact with anyone he'd slept with. Naturally, he did this with in his usual vulgarity.

 _'_ _Christ, Charlie! You don't have to marry every lass who puts out,' Grigg laughed meanly. 'These gals ain't the type you marry. They put more thought into which condom to buy than which boy to fuck. Ten bob says none of them remember your name if we ever see them at the pub again.'_

Two months later, Grigg's prediction proved correct. This was when Charles realized that his views on love were old-fashioned. Charles didn't see anything wrong with the modern way of thinking. It simply wasn't the way that he thought. Maybe it was because he was a simple village lad. Maybe it was because he had an overdeveloped sense of loyalty. Whatever the reason, Charles didn't view relationships as disposable and he couldn't separate sex from relationships. He sometimes envied those who could, but he suspected they were as lonely as he was.

On Elsie's doorstep, Charles shook his head as he considered his ineptitude with women. After graduation, matters had only gotten worse. Charles had been persuaded by Grigg to spend his gap year touring the UK as a two-man band. They modeled themselves after the Violent Femmes; Charles played keyboards while Grigg played a standup snare drum. To call them terrible would be generous, but the music wasn't the point for either of them. Grigg was mainly interested in meeting impressionable young women who would fall for any musician, even terrible ones. Charles needed to throw off the burden of expectations and experience life beyond Yorkshire. Charles defied his father's wishes that he work full time on the estate, but he promised to be back for the start of wedding season in May. He'd been home by January; tired of Grigg's shenanigans and freshly heartbroken. He was eighteen years old and had no ambitions beyond those he'd inherited. Feeling at loose ends, Charles took his place as his father's apprentice and planned to attend night classes starting the next fall. He knew he needed a degree, but he was in no rush to achieve it.

Though he was geographically stationary, Charles felt as though he wandered through the next few years. He worked at Downton and attended the local college, but without focus or direction. Nothing of note happened until the summer one fiery Scottish lass came to Downton to work for the season. This coincided with the year that Charles was elevated to under butler and given more responsibilities at the castle. Charles and his father shared responsibilities to enable Downton to host three or four events a day at the height of the season. While his father oversaw occasions hosted inside the Abbey itself, Charles took ownership of the outside events such as weddings in the walled garden and parties on the east lawn. It was young person's work to trek back and forth between the house and outdoor parties. Due to the physical nature of the work, Charles was given his choice of the new temporary workers.

She was only seventeen and slightly unnerved at being away from home for the first time, but Elsie hadn't been at Downton for more than a week before Charles pegged her as the most intelligent and competent of the incoming recruits. By the end of that first season, Charles relied upon Elsie almost as much as Carson Sr. relied upon Charles. Elsie was always looking for ways to improve upon the traditional way of doing things. Though he instinctively resisted her most innovative ideas, Charles found himself as rejuvenated by Elsie's contagious excitement as he was impressed by her efficiency. For the first time since returning to Downton, Charles saw himself as more that 'the boss' son'. He began to see a direction for his future; a future that was not necessarily centered at Downton. Of course, because Elsie was in the employ of the estate, Charles did not dare dream of pursuing a personal relationship with her. That did not stop him from enjoying her company and appreciating her rare mixture of optimism and practicality.

When Elsie returned for the season the next year, Charles was surprised at how glad he was to see her again. Charles was not a man with many friends, but Elsie had become one of his closest acquaintances. She was easy to talk to and she was always willing to listen. Though he still considered her off limits romantically, Charles admitted to himself that Elsie was a person he wanted to keep in his life. He wasn't sure how, but he was determined that by the end of that season he would find a way to continue their acquaintance beyond the Downton wedding season.

Throughout that second summer, Charles and Elsie's professional partnership blossomed, but Charles still felt the need to keep himself apart from the under staff. Once again, Elsie became Charles' 'right-hand man' for the outdoor events. Even Carson Sr. took notice of how well the pair worked together as Charles was always sure to give Elsie her due praise. Ironically, it was Charles' father who first introduced the means by which Charles and Elsie transitioned their relationship from respected colleagues to trusted friends.

 _Charles watched the bride and groom dancing under the white canopy of the tent under the blue canopy of the cloudless sky. The August sun bathed the scene in warmth, rather than heat. The weather was perfect for the final event of the season. In two days, Downton would be closed to the public and the dorms would be empty. The thought saddened Charles, but he showed no outward signs of his melancholy to the young woman standing with him also admiring the view._

 _'_ _Well done, Miss Hughes. Beautifully executed, as always,' Charles observed proudly._

 _'_ _The key is in the planning,' Elsie quoted one of Carson Sr's favorite pearls of pedantic wisdom with an impish smile._

 _Charles smiled almost imperceptibly and raised his eyebrows knowingly at Elsie's quip. It was a line he had heard a hundred times from his father._

 _'_ _Speaking of planning,' Charles said casually. 'I hope you're planning to return to us next summer.'_

 _'_ _I am,' Elsie affirmed._

 _'_ _And beyond that?'_

 _'I saw the pamphlets y_ _our father set out about a program at the London Institute. I didn't even know they had degrees for Hotel and Restaurant Management,' Elsie admitted. She smiled as the slightly inebriated groom dipped his new wife a little too deeply. 'But now that I know they exist, I can't see myself pursuing any other degree.'  
_

 _'_ _It isn't just any degree; it's a Master's program,' Charles corrected her. 'The finest in the country.'_

 _Elsie nodded and was silent for several heartbeats before asking, 'I take it that you're planning to apply.'_

 _'_ _I've already been accepted,' Charles confirmed._

 _'_ _Oh, that's wonderful, Charles,' Elsie finally took her eyes off the happy scene to look at him with admiration. 'You'll move to London then?'_

 _'_ _Eventually.'_

 _'_ _I've always dreamed of living in London, but it was a stretch for my parents to let me come so far as Yorkshire. I don't think they'll agree to London.'_

 _'_ _They won't stop you if it's what you really want.' Charles kept his eyes on the event though he watched her in his periphery._

 _'_ _If it's the best in the country I'm not sure I'll rate,' Elsie worried, biting her lip uncertainly._

 _'_ _Why shouldn't you? You're an excellent organizer.'_

 _'_ _But I haven't been at it for very long.'_

 _'_ _If you're worried, His Lordship can write you a letter of reference. A word from the Earl of Grantham should carry some weight,' Charles informed her._

 _'_ _Did he write a letter for you?'_

 _'_ _I didn't ask for one. I'm trying to prove something to myself about not needing my father's help, nor His Lordship's.'  
_

 _'_ _Given your experience, you probably didn't need their help, but I'm not likely to be accepted without a recommendation,' Elsie acknowledged._

 _'_ _I disagree, but a reference couldn't hurt,' Charles shrugged._

 _'_ _Why would His Lordship write me a reference?' Elsie wondered. 'I've never even spoken to him.'_

 _'Da will_ _tell him what to write,' Charles assured her. 'Or, more likely, Da will write it and His Lordship will sign it. Da agrees with me that you have a gift for logistics. Not to mention you are a natural leader.'_

 _Elsie was struck momentarily dumb by such effusive praise from the stoic under butler. 'That means a lot,' she stammered breathlessly. 'Especially coming from you. You were practically born to this.'_

 _'_ _I was trained from a young age, it's true, but I envy your talent,' Charles confessed._

 _'_ _I'm not sure there is much difference in the end,' Elsie said bracingly. 'I do know that you're destined to be butler of Downton Abbey one day. No one could be as qualified as you to take your Da's place.'_

 _She meant it as a compliment, but Charles frowned. 'I don't want to become butler of Downton Abbey just because my father was butler here,' he said darkly. 'I love Downton, but I can't stay here forever. Here I'm just another Carson. I need to build a career based on my own merit, not on my father's. I need to prove myself in a world where the name 'Carson' doesn't mean anything to anyone.'_

 _'_ _I understand,' Elsie commiserated softly. She was about to remind Charles that his talents had nothing to do with his name when she was interrupted by Beryl blustering up to them._

 _'_ _Well? Have you told her the plan?'_

 _'_ _The plan?' Elsie asked in confusion. 'There's a plan?'_

 _'_ _I haven't quite got there,' Charles informed the assistant pastry cook._

 _'_ _Charlie and I've been accepted to the London Institute.'_

 _'_ _He didn't tell me you'd been accepted as well. Congratulations,' Elsie offered sincerely. No one in the Downton kitchen worked harder than Beryl Patmore._

 _'_ _We can take courses at the local college this year and transfer to the London campus after next summer's season,' Beryl explained breathlessly. 'We're planning to share a flat. Since your on that accelerated degree, you could almost catch us up by then. W_ _e can as easily find a flat for three as for two._ _'_

 _'_ _You want me to join you in London?' Elsie asked incredulously. Her head was spinning with possibilities. She'd only recently heard about the program and now she was planning to move to London next year!_

 _'_ _It were my mum's idea,' Beryl admitted. 'She trusts Charlie and all, but she'd feel worlds better if I wasn't the only girl in the flat and you're the best candidate.'_

 _'_ _Charlie might not want to be stuck with the two of us,' Elsie offered half-jokingly._

 _'_ _I cannot think of two people with whom I would rather be stuck,' Charles replied with a teasing grin. There was more truth behind his words than he let on._

 _'_ _You see?' Beryl clapped with excitement. 'It's settled!'_

 _'_ _Let's not put the cart before the horse,' Elsie cautioned. 'I haven't even applied yet. I might not get in.'_

 _'_ _Oh, tosh, don't you worry about that. I don't have much use for the nobility, but our Earl sure knows how to write a letter of introduction,' Beryl laughed. 'Come by mine tonight and we can look at the application and the programs together.'_

 _'_ _Fine, I'll see you later,' Elsie promised. 'I have to get back to the reception just now. It's almost time for cake.'_

 _'_ _Right, cake….That's why I was sent out here,' Beryl remembered suddenly._

 _'_ _What about the cake?' Charles asked worriedly._

 _'_ _It'll be out in a few… oh, never mind, here it is… I'll be off!' And she was gone._

 _'_ _You really wouldn't mind sharing a flat with Beryl and me?' Elsie asked cautiously._

 _'_ _Of course not.'_

 _'_ _You'd say if you minded…'_

 _'_ _I won't mind it at all.' Charles kept his outward countenance calm, but congratulated himself inwardly._ You couldn't have planned that any better, _he thought smugly._

 _He had no specific designs on a personal relationship with Elsie. He only knew that he wanted to keep Elsie in his life and he was well on his way to accomplishing that._

-00-

Only a flash of time passed as these memories crashed through Charles' mind. It was odd to remember that there ever was a time when he and Elsie weren't the best of friends. At this moment, however, she was angry with him. He wanted desperately for her to forgive him, but that was secondary in his mind. What mattered most was that his friend was upset and maybe he could fix it. Charles turned away from the door and pulled out his phone.

TBC...

* * *

 **AN/ There's no single excuse for my long absence, so I won't bore you with a list. All is well and I hope to finish this story soon and return to Perpetual Motion shortly. Thank you for your patience, Chelsie ON!**


	9. Part Nine

This is not a typo! ChelsieDagger Lives! Bad Review is back! I apologize for the prolonged absence. I did not intend to ghost you guys. Many thanks to those of you who have messaged me and reviewed my stories over the past years of neglect. I value your faith in me. I hope to prove that it was deserved.

You might have to go back and read to remember where we're at. Basically, this is six weeks before the 'main story'. Elsie has just realized that Charles has been avoiding being alone with her for 2 years.

* * *

Six Weeks ago…Yorkshire…

Elsie stood in the middle of her living room contemplating another drink. She struggled to reconcile her memories from twenty years ago with the more recent events of the past two years and the immediate reality of the past twenty minutes.

It shocked her to realize that she was still angry with Charles for leaving her in London. On top of that, he'd just admitted to avoiding her for the past two years. It was one thing to suspect it, but to have him confirm those suspicions was another thing entirely. She was so livid her hand shook as she refilled her glass. And yet, Elsie's ire focused as much on herself as on Charles. He was not blameless, but then, neither was she.

Twenty years ago, they'd come at the relationship from opposite sides. Charles had been the one initially skeptical of a casual affair. But once in the relationship, he'd apparently set those worries aside. Elsie had been sure from the start that they could both compartmentalize their feelings, but she shortly realized that was an idealistic fantasy. Even knowing this, Elsie had accepted the inescapable pain. Of course, the worst part was that she'd let herself start to believe that the end might not be so certain as they'd said.

Now, Charles was admitting that he hadn't let her any closer in the past two years because he was protecting himself from her inevitable exit. Once more, he was being cautious where Elsie sought to rush in. Now that she allowed herself to look, Elsie could see the evidence of Charles subtly keeping himself apart from her since her return to Yorkshire. It had become less subtle of late, as evidenced by the fact that Beryl had noticed.

Elsie gulped down her whiskey, intending to have another, but she found that she couldn't move. She felt stuck in limbo; between past mistakes and future regrets. Never one to be a passive participant in her own life, Elsie resolved to do something. She didn't know what that something was, and it was possible she might make things worse, but she had to do something immediately.

Elsie abandoned the glass beside the bottle and went in search of her phone. She knew it was in her bag, which she found beneath her wet coat in the hall where she'd just thrown them both. Chastising herself for such an act of petulance, Elsie picked up the purse and coat. She hung them both on their hooks after retrieving her phone. Elsie swiped across the screen to unlock it. She opened Messenger and tapped Charles' name. The blue dot told Elsie that Charles was active. The flashing ellipses told her that Charles was writing to her at that very moment.

"He couldn't be home yet," Elise muttered to herself. Elsie glanced out the narrow window that flanked the door. As she'd expected, his car was still in front of her house. He hadn't left yet.

She peered more closely out the window. The car was empty. The lights were off, and Charles was nowhere to be seen. Curious, Elsie grabbed her coat and ventured out into the cool, misty night.

She found him by the glow of his phone. He was seated on a bench in the front garden. A wire trellis offered Charles little protection from the elements, but he didn't seem to notice the light mist. He was bent over his phone typing furiously and cursing under his breath.

Elsie approached him warily, wrapping her coat tight about her, her arms crossed protectively. Her feet made no noise on the damp grass. She was practically on top of him before she spoke.

"Charles Carson!" Her call sounded more severe than she'd intended.

Charles jumped up at the sound of her voice. He almost dropped his phone, but caught it deftly and recovered quickly.

"What are you doing lurking my garden?" She demanded, with her tone now under control.

"I'm not lurking," Charles countered defensively. "I'm texting." As if to prove his innocence, Charles waved his phone at her vaguely.

"Worse yet," Elsie quipped.

With a wry pursing of his lips, Charles sat back down and returned his attention to his phone.

"It still begs the question, why are you texting in my garden?"

"I wanted to send you an apology before you turned in," Charles explained without looking up. "And Lady Mary has repeatedly impressed upon me the evils of texting and driving."

Elsie almost teased him for taking driving safety advice from a twelve-year-old girl, but then she might have to admit that the eldest Crawley daughter was correct in this instance.

Charles continued typing clumsily with his thumbs. Elsie waited for him to look up from his frustrating task, but eventually lost her patience.

"Shall I go back inside and wait for my apology then?" She asked with her accent fair dripping with sarcasm. This succeeded in diverting Charles' attention from his phone. He looked up into her fuming face before quickly turning away.

"No." He looked abashed as he stared impotently at his lowered his phone and rambled. "I'm sorry, Elsie. I just…I don't know where to start. It's bad enough I've been dodging you. But then to find you were still angry with me about London and… I deserve it, but…I mean…I had no idea. I swear, I wouldn't mind you being mad if it made you feel better, but it doesn't, so I wanted to make things right before you went to bed, but I can't get it right, I just… I can't…and it has to be perfect."

Even though she was miffed with him, Elsie found it difficult to sustain her anger. She could see he was trying.

"Charles." She moved to stand in front of him on the bench and waited until he dared to look up at her. She offered him a tender smile before speaking. "My mother used to say, 'Apologies are a lot like people.'"

"How so?" Charles wondered hopefully.

"'They don't have to be perfect, so long as they are sincere.'"

Charles returned her smile gratefully. He knew he was in the wrong. She didn't have to meet him halfway, and yet, here she was offering him a second chance he wasn't certain he deserved.

"I can do sincere," Charles promised meekly. The phone disappeared into his coat and Charles moved over to make more room on the bench for Elsie.

She shook her head. "I'm not standing in the rain waiting for my apology," she declared simply. "And I'm not inviting you inside."

Charles looked up and frowned into the sky. He only now became aware that the rain was falling more heavily than before.

"Go home, Charlie," she said gently. He tried to stand and protest, but she placed her hand on his chest. "I promise not to go to bed angry, on one condition."

"Anything," Charles managed to stammer, his voice barely a whisper.

Elsie felt a palpable heat building between them. It felt so real that she half expected to see her dry handprint left on his coat when she slowly, reluctantly, removed her hand. Elsie looked down at him for a moment. "Call me when you get home."

Charles nodded dumbly before finding his voice. "May I see you to the door?"

"Suit yourself." She managed to sound nonchalant as she turned and walked towards her door without waiting for him. He rose and dashed after her. They walked the last bit to her door in silence. Elsie opened the door and stepped inside before wheeling to face Charles. "I'll await your call."

"I won't be two minutes," Charles promised.

"There's no need to speed," she cautioned reflexively. She knew the estate roads would be slick and muddy on a rainy night like this.

Elsie closed the door. Charles rushed back to his car and roared off, the wheels turning before his door had closed.

Elise heard the car peeling out and shook her head. She kicked off her shoes and headed quickly towards her bedroom. She wanted to slip into her comfortable flannel pajamas before his call and she knew there wasn't much time. Elsie had just slipped into her fuzzy socks when the phone rang.

"You didn't speed, did you?" She answered the phone with an audible smile.

"Of course not," he claimed innocently. She heard his car door slam in the background.

"You'll be in trouble if Robert finds out you were speeding on the estate grounds."

"Robert won't find out. Unless someone counts the sheep," Charles joked back. "There were too many sheep in Yorkshire anyway."

"I doubt Robert would share that sentiment."

"He's only interested in his pigs."

They both chuckled at this exchange and then fell silent. It was time for a more serious discussion. Charles knew it was for him to start.

"Thank you," Charles said sincerely. "This was a good idea."

"I thought this might go more smoothly over the phone. We've talked like this more often than we've talked face to face."

"That's certainly true," Charles sighed sadly. "And this way, it's easier for a coward to admit his mistakes."

"You aren't a coward."

"You don't know that," Charles protested. "Only a coward would do what I've done."

"Why don't you tell me about it and let me be the judge."

"Alright," Charles decided it as best to come straight out of the gate with the worst of it. "I've been avoiding being alone with you for almost two years. For the past few months, I've tried to avoid being around you altogether. I've accomplished this by accepting consulting work around the country."

"At least the jobs were real."

"Oh, they're real enough, but I misrepresented them. There was some travel required, but it was mostly work I could do remotely or in my own time. I set things up so whenever you asked to meet for coffee or dinner alone, I had a ready excuse that was never exactly a lie."

"I'd have caught you in a lie."

"Mmhm," Charles conceded. "It wasn't my plan to avoid you from the first. I didn't need to. When you first arrived, you were too busy for dinner or lunch or coffee." _Or me._

"My Montreal project ran over and Beryl had her heart set on a spring launch," Elsie defended herself.

"I know that," Charles agreed calmly. "I know you had to hit the ground running. I know you had your hands full with Beryl and trying to rein in her million ideas. And after being in Canada for a year, you wanted to spend your weekends at St. Anne's with your Mum and Becky. That didn't bother me. We still exchanged email or talked on the phone four or five times a week as if you were still in Canada. I was just glad you were back on this side of the pond."

Elsie pressed the phone to her ear and waited for him to continue.

"Honestly, Elsie, my original intent was to spend as much time with you as you'd allow. I didn't consider any potential…" _Danger_."…complications until the evening of your housewarming," Charles explained.

"I thought that went well," Elsie said with a frown. Elsie remembered the evening, but couldn't think of what Charles might be talking about.

"It did. Until it didn't," Charles answered enigmatically. "I blame the Grenache."

TBC...

(I really mean it this time. The whole story is finished and will be rolled out with a chapter every few days over the next 2 weeks.)


	10. Part Ten

**Thank you for the welcome back! Let's get back to these ridiculous, old boobies...**

* * *

 _Two years earlier... Yorkshire_

Three months after moving into her current cottage, Elsie finally spent a full weekend at Downton. She'd managed to unpack her meager possessions. Elsie's transient lifestyle dictated that her personal belongings were few, but she retained a small collection of items which made each new domicile distinctly her own space. In addition to framed personal photos, Elsie brought all her kitchen wares with her; her knives, pots and pans, and appliances. She was oddly proud that she still had the same single-slice toaster she'd bought for the flat in London; a purchase which had baffled Charles at the time.

With her kitchen properly unboxed and stocked, Elsie had invited her small circle of friends over for an evening of drinks and 'nibbly bits'. In addition to Charles and Beryl, Robert and Cora attended, as did John and Anna, and the newly married Daisy and William. They'd all sat around in the main room of Yew Tree farm drinking more than they ought while discussing everything and nothing. Elsie recalled the evening fondly. She'd missed belonging to a tight knit group of friends.

They'd chatted late into the night. Eventually, the couples began leaving. The newlyweds left first, quickly followed by the Bateses. Robert was keen to stay longer until Cora reminded him that they'd left Violet to watch Mary, Edith, and Sybil.

 _'Mama can handle the girls,' Robert had insisted._

 _'But if we take advantage of her on the rare occasions she offers to help, she'll stop offering altogether,' Cora explained to Elsie by way of apology as they left._

 _Beryl and Charles, her only remaining guests, offered to help Elsie clean up, but mainly helped her finish off the wine everyone had brought._

 _'We didn't even get to the wine you brought, Charles,' Beryl observed as she brought the bottle of French red into the kitchen along with the last of the glasses. 'It would be a shame to let it go to waste.'_

 _'It's been 'wasting' in that bottle for six years,' Charles laughed. He was stood at the sink, up to his elbows in soap suds. 'It can wait a few more weeks. And so can you.'_

 _'You saying that I'm drunk?' Beryl challenged him with a slur. Charles could not judge if the slur was genuine or exaggerated for comic effect. Charles looked to Elsie for a decision. He didn't want to overstay his welcome. She smiled in that way that made him turn to jelly and lay her hand on his arm. Maybe it lingered there longer than necessary or maybe it didn't or maybe he imagined it. In any case, Charles felt goosebumps. He had to force himself to concentrate in order to listen to what she was saying.  
_

 _'She's already sleeping in the spare room,' Elsie shrugged. 'And you could take the couch or walk home.'_

 _'You're outnumbered, Charlie-boy,' Beryl cackled as she picked up the corkscrew to open the Grenache._

-00-

"I don't remember much happening after we opened that last bottle," Elsie admitted.

"It was almost two years ago," Charles assured her. "And I wouldn't say anything remarkable happened."

"But _something_ must have happened to make you want to dodge me from there on. All I can remember is laughing; a lot." She could recall feeling safe and content that evening. Being back together with Charles and Beryl had felt like coming home. "It was like old times."

"Very like," he agreed. "In the old days an evening like that often ended with us in bed; at least for part of the night."

"And you didn't want that," Elsie stated flatly. There had definitely been some of the old 'vibe' between them throughout the night.

"I didn't say that," Charles protested sadly. "And I'm not blaming you. If there was any flirtation, I was a willing participant. Until…"

-00-

 _The last of the Grenache swirled and dwindled in the glasses of the three friends. The women occupied the couch while Charles lazed comfortably in a large chair. Talk turned naturally to Elsie and Beryl's current project, the as yet unnamed restaurant. Charles would contribute whenever his opinion was requested, but he mainly sipped his wine and enjoyed listening to his two best friends banter about décor and menus and other important minutiae. At some point before two in the morning, Charles dropped off to sleep. It took the ladies almost half an hour to notice that he was asleep. It might have taken them longer if not for his gentle snoring._

 _Some time later, Charles woke_ _from a wine thickened sleep_ _to find a blanket tucked around him. He heard the sound of raised voices coming from the kitchen.  
_

 _'Honestly, Beryl, if you aren't going to listen to me, why am I here?'_

 _'As a personal favor to me,' the cook responded sarcastically. 'Or so you keep reminding me!'_

 _'Then why can't you seem to remember?'_

 _'If it's such a burden to be here, you should leave.'_

 _'Maybe I will. It isn't as though I don't have other offers,' Elsie rejoined loudly. 'Better offers. But instead, here I am, in the back of beyond because of you.'_

 _'And I'm the only reason you're here?'_

 _'What's that supposed to mean?'_

 _'Come on,' Beryl answered gently now, but her voice still carried through the quiet house. 'What about Charlie?'_

 _'What about him?'_

 _Silence._

 _'Fine, have it your way.'_

 _'I'm here to help you,' Elsie insisted._

 _'And then you're off again?'_

 _Elsie remained obstinately silent._

-00-

"You weren't meant to hear that."

"But I did," Charles pouted. "Because of that damn wine."

The pieces began to fall into place for Elsie. How must it have sounded to Charles, hearing her speak so casually of leaving after a night of flirtations?

"I pretended to be asleep when the two of you came back from the kitchen," Charles confessed. "I let you wake me, I made my excuses, and I walked home. That night, I emailed the clients in Bristol. I'd intended to turn them down because the job meant traveling. After what I'd heard, I welcomed the distraction."

"But I didn't mean it, Charlie. That was just posturing for Beryl's sake. We'd had dozens of similar arguments since my return; whenever she ignored my suggestions."

"I wasn't to know that."

"No, but you could have asked me about it."

"No, I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a coward."

"This again?"

"I was afraid of making things awkward between us," Charles moped. "I didn't want to risk our friendship."

"But there was nothing to risk."

"Nothing to risk?" Charles repeated sadly. "I'm sorry to hear that our friendship means so little to you."

"I didn't say that."

"You just said…"

"There's nothing to risk. Yes, I did. But it isn't because your friendship isn't important to me."

"But…" Charles was confused.

"I meant that there's no question of our friendship ending over something trivial."

"Trivial?" He could hardly stand to hear her speak so flippantly about their relationship. "Is that what my feelings are to you?"

"No." Elsie felt her frustration growing. "But what am I meant to know of your feelings? You never say anything."

He proved her point by remaining silent.

"I'm not psychic, Charles, I can't read your mind."

"Obviously," came the petulant reply.

The line went quiet. Elsie feared that he'd hung up.

"Charlie? Are you still there?" She struggled to keep the anger out of her voice.

"Of course, I'm still here," he answered bitterly. "I've always been here."

She heard the accusation in his tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind."

"No," Elsie said sternly. "Out with it, Charlie."

"What can I say?"

"Just be honest with me. We promised to always be honest with each other."

"We did, but we also promised there would be no drama. I had to choose which promise to break," Charles sighed. "I chose to lie to avoid the drama."

It was Elsie's turn to be silent. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Was he implying what she thought he was implying?

"Elsie, I'm sorry. I've been lying to you for twenty years. Can you forgive me?"

"Only if you're honest with me now," she said softly. "What have you been lying about, exactly?"

"About everything that matters," Charles admitted bravely. The rest came rushing out,"London was never just a fling for me. I had to leave. I didn't want to, but I had to. I always thought there would be another chance; when you grew tired of conquering the world. Finally, you did come back, but not for me. And now…I don't want you to leave, but I don't have the right to ask you to stay."

Elsie processed his words as quickly as they came rushing out.

"That shouldn't stop you from asking," Elsie answered coyly. When he didn't answer right away, Elsie knew it was time for her to come clean. She was asking Charles to be honest with her, she had to be honest with him. "When you left London, I wanted to ask you to stay, but I couldn't, because of my promise. I made the same decision you did."

"So," Charles stammered as he fought to get his mind around her confession. "It sounds as if…"

Less than two miles away, Elsie held the phone expectantly to her ear and bit her lip to keep from interrupting him. It was important for her that he say it first.

"It sounds as if we want the same thing," Charles offered tentatively. "Would you agree?"

"Possibly." She needed him to say more.

"So, you might stay...if I asked?"

"Are you asking?"

"Yes! I want you to stay, Elsie. If you want to stay."

"I want a reason to stay."

"I love you."

Elsie smiled broadly to herself. "That'll do."

TBC...


	11. Part Eleven

They shared a long moment of silent joy. Charles found his voice first.

"Sssso..." Charles said leadingly. "What now?"

"I'm not sure," Elsie answered honestly. In her mind, she pictured Charles heading back to Yew Tree Farm, ignoring the road altogether, driving across a field full of sheep. If he did come back, she hoped she could ditch the flannel pjs by then and find something less frumpy.

Charles must have had the same thought about returning. Through the phone Elsie heard his car engine start up.

"Have you been sitting in your car this whole time?" Elsie was confused. "But I heard your car door when you first called."

"I never made it home. There _were_ sheep in the road, but I stopped for them," he said breathlessly. His voice was distant. Elsie could tell the phone was on speaker. "I got out to drive them out of the road, but it took too long and I didn't want you waiting for my call, so I called as I was getting back in the car."

"I hate to say this but, I'm not sure you should come over."

"What? Are you already in bed?"

"No, but I'm dressed for it." She left her bedroom and went to the front door. "Where are you?"

But she didn't need him to answer. The flash of headlights told her he'd just rounded the corner to the Yew Tree Farm. Elsie laughed at his naked eagerness. It matched her own, but she was ever the pragmatist. The car pulled up in front of the house.

"Elsie," his voice was clearer now. He'd picked up the phone and was no longer on speaker. She could see his silhouette in the car. "I don't have to come in, I just need to see you."

Elsie grabbed her coat and wrapped it tightly around her. She knew she could not let him past the threshold. If she let him that far, she'd never be strong enough to send him away. Elsie was out the door and halfway down the path by the time he was out of the car. Luckily, the rain had stopped.

"Charlie, you should go home now." She insisted. Her head was swimming. Two years of neglect and then...This was too fast.

"I love you, Elsie Hughes," he said simply. The grin on his face was the sweetest, dearest thing she'd ever seen. "I needed to tell you face to face."

He stood by the car. She stood on the path. They were still at least a meter apart.

She smiled back sadly. "Please go home, Charlie. There's so much... so much to think about and it's so late."

"Right, you're right, it's late and I don't mean to impose. Only, I'm off to London tomorrow," Charles said regretfully. "May I take you to dinner when I get back Wednesday?"

"No," Elsie sighed. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

"But…"

"You know what I'm like when I'm finishing a project. My own Mam won't talk to me a month before a launch," Elsie admitted. "Now that we've secured the investment, I'm going to be insanely busy for the next two months."

"That's okay. Just tell me when you have time and I'll make it work," he offered.

"That isn't fair to you, Charlie."

"I don't mind," he assured her, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

"I know, but I've had years to think about what went wrong in London," Elsie explained, wrapping the coat more tightly around herself. "I think that one of our worst mistakes was that we didn't treat us with the respect we deserved. We squeezed our… _benefits_ in between the rest of our lives. There were some days when the only time I saw you was in bed. I'm pretty sure we didn't even speak on a few occasions. We deserved better then and we deserve better now."

Charles pouted silently.

"Charlie, I love you, and, if this were just about me, I'd drop everything to make time for you, but there are other people depending on me."

Hearing her say she loved him brought Charles around. "I understand and you're right," he admitted reluctantly. "Damn it."

"That's not to say things won't change," she offered hopefully. She took a small step towards him.

"They can hardly stay the way they are," he agreed. "Now that we know...how we feel."

"Still, it could be a good thing to take things slow; reconnect."

"It will give us a chance to rebuild our friendship after what I've done," Charles allowed, taking a small step towards her.

"What have you done?" Elsie asked in confusion. She was having difficulty following the thread of conversation. He was so close.

"I avoided you for two years... remember that?"

"Ah, that's right. I'd almost forgotten," Elsie teased. "I guess that means I've forgiven you."

"Thank you for that." They were close together now. Not touching, but very near. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

Elsie looked deep into his sincere eyes. "Charles Carson, you can have as many chances as it takes,"Elsie whispered.

Charles leaned down and Elsie reached up. Their kiss was brief, but intense. Memories of their past kisses reignited in Elsie's mind and warmed her body from tip to toe. In twenty years she'd never found anyone to make her feel one tenth of what she felt with Charles. Elsie could feel him trembling in his struggle to restrain himself. She forced herself to pull away sooner than she wanted. She was sorely tempted to pull him into the house immediately and let him stay the night, but they needed to do things right this time. They needed to reconnect as friends before they moved forward as lovers. Sex was the easy part for them.

Though she broke off the kiss, Elsie did not want to part just yet. She leaned against his chest and wrapped her arms around him as far as she could reach. He easily enveloped her with his large arms. His cheek rested against her forehead.

"Shall we say coffee on Thursday then?" Charles offered, trying to sound calm and composed, but failing.

"Wild horses..." Elsie confirmed with a squeeze. "How much longer will you be traveling for this job?"

"The auction is in London Monday next. I might have to oversee some transport after that, but I should be done in a few weeks."

"We might be able to schedule lunch after that."

"Whoa," Charles chuckled and pushed her back to arms length. "Now who's moving too fast?"

"You're an ass, Charlie," Elsie laughed and swatted at his chest. She allowed him to pull her back into his embrace.

"I'm not the one who manipulated a dear friend," he challenged with a lightness in his voice that told her he was joking.

"Oh?" She was willing to let him have his fun.

"You used Beryl to get to me," Charles said smugly.

"Did I?"

"You told her you came back to help her open her restaurant when..."

"When I'd have run a taco truck in the Dowager House drive if it meant returning to Downton."

Charles chuckled at the image Elsie had just conjured. "I can't picture Lady Violet eating anything from a truck."

"I doubt she even knows what a taco is," Elsie added through her own giggles. "But I would pay good money to hear her order guacamole!"

Charles and Elsie broke into full-throated laughter at this absurd idea. Slowly, their mirth subsided and they were faced with he realization that tonight's conversation had run it's course. They were both reluctant to sign off, but there was nothing more to say tonight.

"It's late," Charles again pointed out sadly.

"Mmm," Elsie acknowledged unenthusiastically. "You're taking the early train?"

"Mmhm," Charles grunted. "I still have to pack."

"We should say goodnight."

"Mm. I should walk you to your door." He sighed, but couldn't move. They might have stood there for hours, but Elsie shivered in the cold. Her fuzzy socks were wet through. Charles' concern for her overcame his desire to hold her for a while longer. Wordlessly, he guided her to the porch. Reluctantly, they peeled apart and she went inside. They shared another meaningful smile before she finally spoke.

"Good night, Charlie. I'll see you Thursday."

"Thursday," he nodded. "Good night, love."

She stood in the front hall until she heard his car pull away. In the semidarkness of her house, Elsie grinned from ear to ear. How many times had he uttered those three little words? _Good night, love._ Love. He'd called her that hundreds of times. She'd assumed it was his Yorkshire habit to call everyone 'love'. Now that he'd told her how he felt, Elsie heard the word very differently. Now, it told her his heart. Charles loved her and always had.

-00-

The next morning Elsie woke and wondered why her cheeks ached. Then she remembered the night before and smiled. She stumbled to the kitchen and popped a pod into the Kuerig. Her phone sat on the cordless charger on the counter. She saw a message awaited her from Charles. It was a photo of a paper BritRail coffee cup sitting on a train table next to that morning's copy of The Times.

 _6:23 Join me in a cuppa? I couldn't wait until Thursday…_

Elsie quickly snapped a photo of her own coffee and sent it back to him. She sat at the table sipping her coffee until he replied.

 _7:12 Morning. What are you up to today?_

 **7:13 Meeting with decorator in am. Interviewing chefs in afternoon.**

 _7:13 I thought Daisy was going to be your EC?_

 **7:14 Probably, but Beryl wants her to work for it. No hand outs…**

 _7:14 Sounds like Beryl. Who else applied._

 **7:15 Only Ivy. Thought Ms. Bird might apply, but she's happy at Hughes'. Wants to earn another star.  
**

 _7:15 Ivy? Congratulations, Daisy_ _!_

 **7:16 UR mean.**

 **7:16 You know you can just call me if you want to chat.**

 _7:17 Can't talk now. Too many people in car. Only teenagers and foreigners talk on the phone on public transit._

 **7:18 :P Snob.**

 _7:18 Guilty as charged._

 **7:19 Where are you staying in London?**

 _7:19 I have a room at White's._

 **7:20 Robert's club?**

 _7:21 Yes. Didn't see any point in opening Grantham House.  
_

 **7:23 I have to leave to meet up with Beryl now. Call me tonight. Anytime after 5.**

 _7:24 Will do. Enjoy your day._

 _7:24 I Love You._

 ** _7:24 Love you, too._**

TBC...

* * *

Some sap and silliness:) Hope you're enjoying their journey of reconnecting.

Next post will be Tuesday at the latest. Busy weekend ahead! Chelsie on!


	12. Part Twelve

**AN/Thank you for all the encouraging reviews. Though the rest of this story is written, I'm adding and tweaking things as I post. Thank you for your patience with this story. Warning, there's a bit of angst ahead, but there's something at the end of this chapter that I hope will help ease the pain;)**

* * *

5 weeks ago, Yorkshire...

They did speak that night and every night he was in London. Finally, Thursday morning dawned. Elsie entered the coffee shop five minutes earlier than they'd agreed to meet. Charles was already sat at a table with two cups of coffee and two muffins. He stood as she entered. There was an awkward moment as Charles hesitated, seemingly unsure of how to welcome her. Elsie gave him a reassuring smile and his doubt vanished. Charles stepped around the table and offered her a hug and a peck on the cheek; their customary greeting after lengthy absences.

"I should have known you'd be early," Elsie chastised him as she sat down.

"Yes, you should have," Charles answered back with a mischievous grin.

"You look happy," she observed. "I take it the trip went well."

"Yes, but that isn't why I'm smiling."

Elsie's cheeks warmed and colored at his flirtation. But she soldiered on, determined to keep things merely friendly for now. "But everything is set for the auction?"

"There's nothing for me to do now but sit back and watch the bids to roll in."

"And then?"

"And then I eagerly anticipate the opening of a new restaurant in Downton. Speaking of which," Charles reached into his breast pocket. "I brought you something."

"What's this?" Elsie asked as she unfolded the paper he'd handed her.

"Some ideas I've jotted down," Charles beamed. "I know each restaurant has it's own distinct menu, but I thought you could use some signature cocktails to tie them together."

"Oh? Do you know, I thought of doing that when we opened Hughes', but Beryl wasn't keen," Elsie told him. She ran a finger down the paper, scanning the words written in his distinctly neat handwriting. "It was sweet of you to think of this." _To think of me._

"As it happens, things were slow at the club and I started chatting with the bar tender. He called himself a mixologist, which… you know I hate," Charles said with an eye roll. "But, along with a pretentiously groomed beard, the lad had a decent pallet."

Choosing not to tease Charles for judging someone else as pretentious, Elsie read through the first recipe. "Earl grey…Islay Scotch…Cointreau?"

"That's the Rose and Thistle. You can decide which scotch you want to feature. It depends on how peaty you want to go. There's more testing to be done. I'd be happy to help," Charles offered eagerly.

"Are you hatching a scheme to get me drunk, Mr. Carson?" Elsie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Considering you can drink me under the table, that would be a plan doomed to failure."

"True. Let's see what else you've come up with…Midori, yellow Chartreuse, and ginger beer? I image that is a very green drink."

"The Beryl. Witty, no?"

"Appropriate," Elsie conceded. "And what drink am I?"

"My favorite," Charles flirted. Elsie sipped her coffee to hide her flattered smile. "It's essentially a French 75 with lemon verbena syrup. Fizzy, a little sweet…"

"And a surprisingly strong kick?"

"Precisely. Those are just a start. Tyler has more ideas if you're interested."

"His name is Tyler? Of course, it is," Elsie chuckled. "I'll show these to Beryl. Once the bar is stocked, we'll have you over to try them out."

"That sounds like a dangerous situation," Charles warned with a smirk.

"Beryl can be our chaperone." Elsie reached across the table and took his hand. "Thank you for being patient, Charlie. I want this to work and I want to be able to focus on making it work."

"Have you told her about us?" Charles asked, the smile growing bigger on his face.

"Not yet. She's been asking, but I've put her off," Elsie shared. "I suppose I should tell her today."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to."

"No, I mean, you don't have to." Charles pointed to the window behind Elsie. When she turned, Elsie saw Beryl just outside jumping back and forth from leg to leg, spilling her own coffee everywhere.

"I think she's happy for us," Elsie laughed as she waved to her friend. "That, or she just ate a handful of scotch bonnets."

"You'd better join her before she busts," Charles smiled. Charles rose as she did. Elsie gave him a quick peck on the cheek and rushed out to Beryl who was now standing gobsmacked by the coffee shop door. Charles watched the two ladies as Elsie took Beryl's arm and pulled her off in the direction of the future Rose and Thistle. He finished his own coffee before strolling contentedly to the radio station.

"Good morning," Robert offered as Charles entered their shared office.

Charles smiled broadly and answered, "The best."

-00-

It was almost three weeks later before they sat down for coffee together again.

"Hello, stranger," Elsie quipped as Charles joined her at the table. This time, she'd arrived fifteen minutes earlier than they'd scheduled. "How was Dubai?"

"Dry," Charles deadpanned. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. It was absolutely natural, though it felt more friendly than romantic. This disappointed Elsie slightly, but she understood that it was necessary for them to keep things safely platonic.

"Not the least bit exciting?" She asked teasingly. They'd spoken a few times since he'd been gone, but mainly exchanged email or text.

"A little overwhelming, to be honest," Charles admitted. He smiled across the table at her, so happy to finally see her again, but restraining himself. "For a Yorkshire lad like me, London is spectacle enough. I don't even have words for what they've built there...though, the Tower of Babel comes to mind."

"But you delivered the wine safely to the Prince?" Elsie prompted. "It was a prince, wasn't it?"

"I've told you, the sale was to an anonymous private collector," Charles said with mock mystery. "I can say no more. Except they must have more money than God."

The wine auction had gone remarkably well. An affluent, anonymous collector acquired most of the lots on offer from Charles' clients. Even Charles' small percentage of the take turned out to be substantial. On top of that, the new owners had offered him a king's ransom to oversee the delivery of the wine to Dubai. Importing six crates of delicate vintages into the UAE proved a logistical minefield. Maintaining proper temperature alone required specialized containers monitored hourly. Charles had personally walked the wine through customs.

"If I ever offer relocation services with another auction, I'll put a limit on how far I will travel," Charles sighed. "I thought I might have to ferry a few crates to Wight or take a train to France. I never expected to be chartering a jet to the Persian Gulf."

"I never expected you'd be there for almost two weeks!" Elsie admonished him.

"The... client wanted me to evaluate his cellar and would not take 'no' for an answer," Charles claimed. "I doubt he's used to hearing the word 'no'. I worked as fast as I could- sixteen hour days to get it all done. I won't say I was kidnapped, because I was compensated, but...It's good to be home."

"It's good to have you home," Elsie smiled sincerely.

"Maybe now we can schedule that lunch you mentioned."

"Not this week," Elsie informed him with visible disappointment. "We're doing a tour of farms this week. Daisy has some radical ideas for the menu and we're looking for locals willing to grow bespoke ingredients for us."

"Can you make time for dinner?"

"Charles, I'm not sure I'll have time for _coffee_ for the next few weeks," Elsie admitted sadly. "This is the most crucial time for a fledgling restaurant. I called my Mam and Becky today and said goodbye. They know they won't hear from me for the next month."

"And me?"

"You'll _hear_ from me every day, if you want, but I can't promise to see you."

"I understand, but this is going to be more difficult than I anticipated." Charles struggled to hide his frustration. He'd promised to wait for her schedule to clear, but it was difficult. The only reason he'd lasted this long was because he'd been in another country for most of the time. He felt an irrational fear that every day that passed put them further back towards the 'friend zone.' Charles focused on the only fact that mattered; she loved him. He had to trust to that.

"I'm sorry, but please be patient," Elsie requested of him.

Charles picked up his phone and swiped something. He held the phone up and said, "Smile, please."

Understanding his plan Elsie laughed and rolled her eyes. Charles snapped a picture and looked at it. "Very nice, now I won't forget what you look like."

"And how will I remember you?"

Charles smirked knowingly and typed into his phone. Elsie's phone buzzed in her bag.

"Should I get that?" She wondered.

Charles shrugged. "It'll be there when you want to look."

"Did you send me a selfie, Charlie?"

He blushed and shrugged again. He was not going to tell her how many attempts Charles had deleted before settling on a photo with which he was pleased.

"I think I'll save it for later," Elsie decided. "Why should I settle for a photo when I have the real thing here with me?"

"Wise choice."

-00-

Elsie deferred the pleasure of looking at Charles' selfie as long as she could. Finally, she broke down during the drive between the last farm and Beryl's home, the site of their test kitchen. In the trunk, they carried samples from all five potential providers. Once they reached Beryl's, they faced a long night of testing and tasting possible dishes. Elsie's eyes were beginning to glaze over as she sat in the backseat listening to Beryl and Daisy arguing about mushrooms. Unable to stay awake, Elsie thought she might send Charles a text. Opening up the app, she finally saw what he'd sent her.

"What's so funny back there?" Beryl demanded.

"Nothing," Elsie claimed, calming her laughter. "Just something Charles texted me."

"Care to share?"

"Not particularly."

Elsie looked down at the photo. In the photo Charles was wearing his grey Sunday suit with a stiff-collared, white shirt with no tie. To Elsie, he looked relaxed, happy, and extremely sexy. He was smiling while leaning beside button surrounded by a brass placard. Elsie assumed he'd snapped the selfie while he was in Dubai because there was Arabic writing on the placard.

Below the Arabic script, the English translation read- 'Ring Bell for Butler'.

TBC...

* * *

 **AN/ I know this wasn't very satisfying, but I hope the following helps. If you are someone who self medicates... here are some libations for your possible enjoyment until the next chapter posts...**

 **The Rose and Thistle**

· 2 oz. Cointreau  
· 2 tsp Earl Grey tea  
· 4 oz. Bruichlladdich scotch  
· Twist of lime

Pour Cointreau into mixing glass. Add tea and let infuse for 1 minute. Add scotch and ice. Stir. Strain into tea cup. Serve with twist of lime.

 **The Beryl**

· 6 oz. Midori  
· 2 oz. Yellow Chartreuse  
· 2 oz. Ginger Liqueur  
· Top up Ginger Beer

Shake spirits in cocktail shaker with ice. Shake well for 10-15 seconds. Strain into wine glass and top up with ginger beer.

 **The Elsbeth**

· ½ oz. lemon juice  
· 1 oz. gin  
· 2 oz. Champagne  
· ½ oz. lemon verbena syrup

Stir the lavender syrup, lemon juice, and gin into an ice filled glass. Strain into a champagne flute and top up with champagne. Garnish with lemon twist.

* * *

(Acknowledgement to Make Me a Cocktail site where I found Cointreau Fizz Soo British, Midori Green Ghoul, and Lavender French 75. I renamed them and made few tweaks for character reasons. They shouldn't have changed the drink so much as to make it undrinkable. Cheers!)


	13. Part Thirteen

**AN/ Sorry for the delay, but I've added some content based on feedback. These next two updates are completely new. Apologies for any typos. At least, it's a longer entry. It gets a little silly, but I hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing...  
**

* * *

10 days ago, Yorkshire...

Charles and Robert walked by the WWI memorial and headed towards the Dog and Duck. Across the way, Beryl and Daisy were overseeing some workers on ladders at the Rose and Thistle site.

"We should go say 'hello'," Robert prompted his grumpy friend. Charles had been a mood for weeks and Robert thought chatting with the ladies might cheer him.

"They're busy, I wouldn't want to impose," Charles frowned pathetically. In the days since his return from Dubai, he'd seen almost nothing of Elsie. They'd managed a hurried afternoon tea meetup on Sunday, but nothing more. She sent daily texts updating him on where she was and what she was doing, but it wasn't enough for him. He tried to reply cheerily enough, but he was beginning to brood.

In his darkest moments, Charles suspected that Elsie was trying to punish him for avoiding her for two years, but he quickly put an end to those thoughts. Elsie was not a vindictive person, he reminded himself. She was just busy, as they'd known she would be. He doubted if she even suspected that he was growing impatient and upset.

It didn't improve his mood to know the present situation was entirely of his own making. He'd had two years to spend with her if he hadn't been such an idiot. Such thoughts were unproductive, so he tried to focus on the positive. He told himself her texts were proof that there was light at the end of the tunnel, not just another train. Still, it was so easy to be a grouch.

"Charlie!" Beryl's voice carried down the high street. They'd been spotted. "Robert! Come see what we've done!"

The men crossed the street and approached the store front. It was freshly whitewashed. A man was hanging the new shingle sign over the doorway. It was a wrought iron sign which featured a classically styled white rose and thistle intertwined. It was at once traditional and modern; the vibe they were aiming for with this venture.

One of the workers stood up from putting the finishing touch of paint on the lower section of the facade. It was Elsie. Her hair was disheveled and her cheeks were flushed. She wore work clothes, but they were immaculate. She smiled as the men approached. Charles thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He struggled to breathe normally and his lungs ached. All he could think of was taking her in his arms and kissing her for days. The only safe action was to avoid looking at her directly. He appeared to scrutinize the sign, squinting up at it very seriously.

"Looking sharp," Robert exclaimed admiringly.

Unable to trust himself to speak directly to Elsie, Charles focused on Beryl and Daisy. "You're in the home stretch, I take it?" He tried not to sound too anxious, but Charles was frustrated by waiting.

"Soft open in one week!" Beryl said excitedly. "It's so close, I can taste it! Or maybe that's the hundreds of amazing dishes Daisy has been experimenting with. You're really in for a treat!"

Daisy beamed at this praise. "I can't wait to hear what you think of our starters, Mr. Carson. And for the fish course-"

"Now, now," Robert admonished with a smile. "Don't go trying to influence the critic." He stepped between Charles and the others, as if defending Charles. Elsie laughed. The joyful and familiar sound was almost too much for Charles.

"Too right," Charles agreed readily. He saw an opportunity to escape his present torture. "We don't want there to be any appearance of bias. I should go."

Before any of his shocked friends could respond, Charles turned on his heel and retreated.

Robert was perhaps the most perplexed of all. "Where the deuce is he going? We were meant to have lunch."

-00-

Charles was around the corner and through the churchyard before he could think clearly. He felt like a fool. What was he doing? Charles' phone rang. He looked down at the image of her at the coffee shop, took a deep breath and answered, "Hello?"

"What the hell was that about?" Her hurt voice asked.

"I... I don't even know," Charles confessed frankly. "I haven't seen you in four days, so, when I did...All I could think of was how much I wanted this stupid restaurant to be open and how much I want to kiss you."

"Don't you think it's difficult for me as well?" Elsie demanded. "But we're adults, not hormone addled twenty year olds."

"I'm afraid you give me too much credit," Charles sighed in exasperation. "I can't play at this pat a pan friendship anymore."

"Well, you're going to have to, or stay away completely," Elsie informed him sternly. "But I don't want that."

"I don't want to stay away either. I've been miserable," he whined. "If you felt anything like this when I was avoiding you, I am so sorry."

"I've forgiven you for that, but I need you to be patient for just a little longer," Elsie said. "I'm sure I'd be just as miserable as you if I weren't so busy. I'm trying to get this damned restaurant off the ground as quickly as possible. We're two weeks ahead of our original schedule. I've pushed Daisy and Beryl to their limits. I've rushed things that I would have spent more time on under ideal conditions. I'm not even sure we'll have our liquor license for the soft open, but I don't care."

"I didn't realize," a chastened Charles answered. "I know you're taking valuable time to text me, but texts aren't enough. I want to hear your voice. Even if we can't be in the same room."

"I'm driving to Stoke tomorrow to inspect and collect our custom settings. Three hours each way," Elsie mentioned. "I could use some company on the road. I'm leaving early in the morning so I can have the dishes back for staff training by noon."

"Damn, I have to be at the estate by seven," Charles cursed.

"That's the only substantial down time I'm going to have for a week, Charles."

"You could call me when you're on the road," he suggested. "Hands free, of course."

"It would be three thirty in the morning," Elsie reminded him.

"I know, but what other choice is there?"

"Okay, it's a date," Elsie agreed. "I'll talk to you bright and early tomorrow."

"Early, yes, but I'm not promising bright."

-00-

At the appointed hour, Charles sat beside his phone waiting. He'd been up for two hours and had hardly managed to sleep before that. By his reckoning, he'd have her full attention for two and a half hours on the drive down. They'd have a little more time before he had to report to the on how long it took her to finish her business in Stoke.

The phone sang out. Charles forced himself to take a deep breath before answering, "Hello."

"'Morning," her voice sounded cheery but distant.

"You're safely on the road?"

"I just left Downton."

"I thought about leaving scones and a thermos of tea on your car bonnet, but I thought better of it," Charles confessed. "I know what you think of those grand romantic gestures..."

"Ah, yes!" Elsie laughed. "I think I'm on record saying the things movies present as romantic would be extremely creepy if experienced in real life. Honestly, that scene in 'Love Actually' with the signs... disgusting!"

"Haven't seen it."

"It is a bit of a chick flick."

Charles heard a car horn honk through the phone.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, just a tractor on the road ahead."

"You'll tell me if this is too much of a distraction, won't you? Safety first."

"I know the route by heart and I'm pretty much the only car on the road," Elsie claimed. "Just don't make me cry and we should be alright."

Charles was appalled by the suggestion. "I would never make you cry on purpose."

"Fine," Elsie chuckled. "But you should do most of the talking. To safe."

"Hmm." Charles hadn't anticipated having to carry the bulk of the conversation. "What would you like to hear about?"

"Tell me something I don't know about you," Elsie prompted.

"You know all there is to know about me."

"I doubt that."

"I'm not as mysterious as you seem to think," Charles maintained. "You may be disappointed."

"Even after this long, there must be something," she insisted. "We don't speak much about relationships; past or present."

"For good reason," Charles huffed. "I never wanted you to think I was in a serious relationship. I wanted you to always consider me available."

"But you haven't been celibate for twenty years. Nor have I."

"I don't want to talk about that," Charles said darkly. "None of them mattered."

"Are you claiming you've never fancied yourself in love with anyone but me?"

"Not with anyone since you."

"But before me?"

"I was young."

"Who was she?"

Charles paused before answering, "Her name was Alice; Alice Neal."

"Tell me about her," Elsie asked softly. "And a young Charles Carson."

Charles protested, "It's too early in the morning for this story."

"It's too early in the morning for just about anything," Elsie countered. "Please?"

"Fine," Charles acquiesced with a sigh. "How much have I told you about Charlie Grigg?"

"I've heard you mention the name. He was a bad influence in your life, I gathered."

"Ha!" Charles laughed sardonically. "That's one way of saying it. We were school chums from way back. Charlie liked to say that he was the George to my Lenny. I was big, silent, and perhaps naïve, but he didn't protect me. I was the one who had to pull us out of the scrapes his big mouth landed us in.

"The summer and fall before I started taking courses at the local college, I was at loose ends and particularly vulnerable to Grigg's influence," he recalled. "Charlie had it in his mind that we should start a band."

"A band! You?"

"To my eternal shame, yes."

"Was it so bad as that?"

"Oh, it was bad," Charles confirmed. "Very, very bad."

"I didn't know you could play an instrument."

"I can't and I couldn't. Neither could Grigg, but he insisted it was all about attitude. He had a plan. He wanted us to mimic a certain American band, a duo. I'm sure you know them. A tall fellow who played a standup bass like a guitar accompanying a shorter fellow on a snare drum..."

"Oh, Charlie," Elsie exclaimed. "Please do not tell me…"

"I'm afraid it's true."

"Oh, Beryl is going to die!" He could hear her snickering through the phone.

"You can't tell her! You can't tell anyone!"

"But… you were in a Violent Femmes cover band?!" She began laughing harder.

Charles held his hand covering his face in shame even though there was no one to see him, "Yes, I was."

"And you played the bass?"

"I learned exactly three songs. Grigg did the singing and snare. We practiced once before Grigg booked our first gig. We called ourselves-"

"Wait! Wait!" Elsie gasped. "I have to pull over for this or I'm afraid I'm going to crash!"

Charles stopped and waited, mortified. This is not how he'd envisioned this conversation unfolding.

"Okay," Elsie said after finally composing herself. Giggles intermittently interrupted her speaking, but she managed to say, "I'm safely off the road. Please… tell me the name… of your…Violent Femmes cover band."

Charles paused to gather his courage. "We were called 'The Violent Charlies'."

It was over two minutes before Elsie's laughter began to subside. Even then, she could barely breathe. "You promised not to make me cry!"

"I didn't consider you'd be crying with laughter."

"Please… please tell me there are pictures! Or video!"

"Thankfully, no," Charles assured her. "I have an old poster, but it just has our name, nothing more."

"Oof," Elsie sighed heavily. "Any more surprises before I pull back onto the road?"

"No, that's the worst of it."

Charles gave her some time to pull out before continuing, "I've only told you about this deeply humiliating time in my life because, it's how I met Alice."

"Oh, that, oh, I'd forgotten," Elsie sniffed. "You met Alice when you were performing? Was she a fan?"

"No, we didn't have fans. We were truly terrible," Charles laughed. "We only booked gigs because we were cheap, essentially free. Our set would usually be one of the first of the night. We were never more than glorified background noise as the punters rolled in. But then, we were free the rest of the night to hang out by the bar and claim to be a band. That was fine by both of us. I didn't want a crowd witnessing our spectacle and Charlie just wanted to use his status as a musician to meet girls."

"Is that how you met Alice?"

"She and her sister sang vocals in an all-girl grunge group," Charles recollected . "They were good, but girl groups weren't headliners. They usually played right after us if they were on the same bill."

"What drew you to her?"

"I can't say. She was different from the other girls in the scene, I thought," Charles answered. "She dressed like Courtney Love and projected a tough girl air, but she was sweet. I first knew she was kind because she never mentioned our music. Her sister would tease us, but Alice refused to judge. She was a gentle soul. We started hanging out even when we weren't playing the same venue. We never officially committed to being a couple, but I made some assumptions once we started sleeping together."

"What sort of assumptions?"

"That the relationship was monogamous, for one. That she wouldn't sleep with my best friend, for another."

"Alice and Grigg?"

"She didn't even try to hide it from me," Charles remembered sadly. "She acted as though it were the most natural thing in the world. It all ended at once; the band, Grigg and me, and Alice and me. I didn't mind the other two, but Alice..."

"You were upset?"

"Truth to tell, I felt she treated me badly. I'd fancied myself in love, but I know now it was nothing like," Charles concluded. "Still, I was pretty heartbroken at the time. I started taking a few courses at the local college, but I didn't have any direction. I took on more responsibility at the estate. I'd been resisting doing so because I was afraid it would lead to me being stuck at Downton."

"You were so driven and focused when I came to Downton. What changed?"

"I found my direction. In my first year I wrote a paper for a History course, a sort of family history. While I was researching it, my Da gave me the butler book from Downton."

"The butler book?"

"To ensure the integrity of traditions and maintain the standards of service, every butler worth his waistcoat kept a household journal back in the day. Downton's butler book was a surprisingly interesting read. It goes back centuries and there are many volumes. Some past butlers were more detailed than others. Some gossiped more. But Downton's butler around the first World War obsessed over the wine. I only found him by chance. I started reading his entries because, funnily enough, his name was Charles Carson."

"Your great-great grandfather?"

"No, I believe he's a distant cousin. He didn't have children, but he married just before his retirement. Anyhow, he kept detailed notes on all the wine in the cellar. For every vintage he had tasting notes and comments on the local climate for the grape year. For some reason, something clicked in me. I was fascinated by the idea that I could virtually taste a wine that no longer existed. Because of this book, I know how an 1892 Bordeaux tasted in 1897 and then again in 1903. It was a revelation!"

"I can imagine," Elsie commented appreciatively.

"When I looked more closely at the wine ledger, I discovered that there might still be a bottle or two of an 1884 Champagne at Downton. Da encouraged me to explore the cellars and I found it! It was long since undrinkable, but just holding that bottle connected me to the past."

"I've seen that the bottle, haven't I?"

"Yes. I keep it on the display shelf in the cellar. Finding that Champagne marked the beginning of my love affair with wine. That's when I began to train my pallet. Whenever there was wine left over, I'd taste it and make my own notes. I subscribed to all the magazines so I could compare my impression of particular wines to the experts. I found that I wasn't too far off and that I could taste even more complex nuances than many of the experts."

"And the rest is history," Elsie concluded happily. "So, a broken heart led you to your first true love."

"Are you jealous? As my second?" Charles flirted.

"Maybe a wee bit," Elsie teased back. "It's hard to compete with wine."

"You don't have to compete. I think you pair nicely with wine," Charles said cheekily.

"Oh, that's terrible, Charlie," Elsie laughed. "I hope you're blushing."

"A little," he admitted. "But mostly I'm feeling a fragile and humiliated."

She caught the irony in his tone.

"Rightfully so," Elsie teased.

"What about you?" Charles prompted.

"I'm not humiliated," she answered.

"Of course not," Charles chuckled. "I meant, it's your turn to talk."

"Hm. Well, what do you want to hear about?"

They both instinctively knew they couldn't talk about her first heartbreak because it was him.

"Tell me about Argyll," Charles requested.

TBC...


	14. Part Fourteen

9 days ago, Yorkshire...

"That's a broad subject," Elsie said cagily. "It's a county in Western Scotland with miles of coastline and more lochs than you can count. The Campbell clan is the main family group in Argyll, having served as Dukes of the region for centuries."

"Ha! Very funny," Charles laughed sardonically. "I don't need a history lesson. I want to know about _your_ Argyll. When you first came to Downton, you talked as though you'd escaped something."

"I felt that I had," Elsie confirmed. "Where I grew up, it was so… small."

"You once mentioned that Downton was a metropolis compared to home," Charles recalled.

"Exactly. We weren't even part of a town, just a small collection of farms where everyone knew everyone's business going back generations. It was fun until I was ten."

"What happened then?"

"The authorities forced Becky into school. My Mum had home schooled me until then, but they wouldn't certify her to teach someone with Becky's difficulties. If Becky had to go to school, so did I. The nearest school was a thirty minute bus ride away. Every day, the local kids rode there and back together; all eight of us."

"Weren't you excited to go to school in a bigger town?"

"A little, but I was more concerned about how these new children would treat Becky. It had taken some time for the local kids to accept her for the sweet person she was."

"And the kids at the new school?"

"I didn't give them a chance at first. I came off that bus with a chip on my shoulder. I was on the lookout for anyone looking at her too long or in a way I didn't like. Luckily for Becky, we were in different classes. She enjoyed school and was well-liked while I kept to myself for most of that first year."

"That doesn't seem like you," Charles observed. "I've always seen you make friends quickly. I attribute it your ability to see the best in people."

"I didn't see people like that when I was ten. That's something I learned from Becky…eventually," Elsie admitted. "But it wasn't easy."

"It's natural that you wanted to protect her."

"She didn't need my protection. Maybe that upset me as much as anything. She'd looked up to me her whole life and I was afraid she didn't need me anymore."

"I'm sure that wasn't true."

"No, it wasn't, but it wasn't easy for a ten year old to come to that conclusion."

"But…eventually, you learned to play nice with others," Charles teased. "Most of the time."

"Most of the time," Elsie echoed with a laugh.

"So, once you learned to like people, you must have blossomed at school. I image you were in all kinds of clubs and activities. Head girl, maybe?"

"Why do you assume that?"

"When you arrived at Downton you were already a skilled organizer and natural leader," Charles complimented her casually. "You must have had some experience."

On the road, Elsie blushed privately and modestly answered, "When I was thirteen I joined the events committee. People had good ideas, but no follow through to make them happen. I made things happen."

"And a star was born."

"I found that I did have a talent and I enjoyed myself. The thing I liked best was managing a budget. The very idea of superfluous money available for a party was something beyond my experience."

Charles paused before asking a delicate question. "You weren't so very poor, were you?"

"It depended on the year," Elsie shared. "Oh, my parents provided for us. There was never any want, but…there was never extra money. We always had something special for Christmas and, in good years, birthdays."

Charles didn't know what to say. His family had not been wealthy, but he'd benefited from the generosity of the Crawleys.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Charlie. I didn't know the difference. Everyone we knew was like us," Elsie soothed. "It was probably more difficult for you, being surrounded by expensive things that weren't yours."

"I never saw it that way," Charles admitted. "The Crawleys were always generous. I had full access to the library and the stables. I suppose we were cash poor, but I never felt it. Da said we were upper lower class or lower middle class; either way, we were lower."

"So you know that money isn't everything?"

"You're saying that money wasn't your motivation for leaving?"

"Not directly. Our money came from the farm and I didn't want to farm," Elsie recalled. "Or marry a farmer."

"You mean Joe?"

Elsie laughed. "I forgot you met Joe."

"He visited several times," Charles reminded her. "I forced myself to be nice to him though I was jealous as all hell."

"You had no reason to be," she smiled to herself. "There was never any danger of my marrying Joe. Not that it stopped him from asking."

"He proposed to you, while you were at Downton?" Charles was appalled. "You were only eighteen!"

"He'd been proposing every five or six months since I was fourteen and he was sixteen."

"What!?"

"Oh, yeah, he first asked me on the bus ride home from school," Elsie chuckled. "Very romantic. After a while, it was almost always the same conversation…

"'Elsie Hughes, you know what I'm askin'.'

'Aye, because you've asked before.'

'Take your time, I'd rather wait a year for the right answer than get the wrong one in a hurry.'

'I reckon I can give you the right answer in a hurry, Joseph Burns. No. We're not even dating.'

'Then go out with me.'

'I don't see that happening.'

'Think about... carefully."

"I have,I promise you that'

"But five months later, he'd ask again. I think he honestly believed he could wear me down," Elsie said, bemused. "I guess it's a good thing I'm so stubborn."

"Your words," Charles reminded her. "But I am glad you were…resolute. Were you never tempted?"

"Maybe…but not for long. He only ever asked me because his family farm was near ours and we were roughly the same age. In the end, we only dated for three months and never slept together," she recounted. "He was a nice lad, but he was just too… _boring_ to seriously consider."

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"I'm sorry to hear you don't like boring men," Charles sighed comically. "That doesn't bode well for me."

"No?"

"I've often been told that steady and boring are my two best attributes."

Elsie laughed at this assessment. It wasn't wrong. "There's a difference between steady and boring, Charlie."

"And what is that difference?"

"You are steady, but you are not boring."

"You may be the only person who believes that."

"Possibly," Elsie allowed.

"Why?"

"It _might_ have something to do with the fact that I love you. So perhaps we shouldn't dissect it too much."

"Elsie Hughes, you are a wise and wonderful woman."

"So I've been told."

-00-

They chatted playfully for the remainder of her drive, even when Elsie stopped for petrol. At one point, they held a lively discourse on politics, concluding that all politicians are worthless.

 _"I only vote so I feel that I have the right to complain," Charles confessed._

 _"A right which you freely exercise," Elsie joked._

At one point, Charles tried to explain why cricket is the perfect sport.

 _"Oh, I do enjoy a good tea interval, but could take or leave the rest of it. I can't remember the last game I saw," Elsie admitted._

 _"It's a match!" Charles erupted. "Not a game!"_

 _"Whatever," Elsie laughed. "If you enjoy it, I'll not stop you. I'll find something else to do when they're playing for the soot."_

 _"It's The Ashes!"_

 _Elsie could swear that she heard him banging his head on the table. Of course, she knew all about The Ashes, but she wasn't ready to admit that she had become a cricket fan during her time at Downton. That would mean admitting that her favorite Downton event was the match between the House and Village and that her favorite part of the event was a certain young man in cricket whites._

Amongst the light banter, they did discuss some more serious subjects, such as their views on having children.

 _"I still don't want any," Elsie told him plainly. "Is that going to be a problem?"_

 _"Not at all," Charles assured her. "Neither of us wanted children years ago, but… I only asked because people do change their minds."_

 _"You mean 'women change their minds'?" Elsie corrected bitterly. "I know people always think a woman regrets being childless when she's 'of a certain age,' but I know I won't."_

 _"How can you be so certain?"_

 _"Since I as eight years old, I've known that, someday I'll be responsible for Becky. I don't resent that, but it made me want to have a part of my life where I wasn't beholden to anyone or anything. Does that make me selfish?"_

 _"No. It makes you incredibly self-aware."_

 _"And you still don't want any kids of your own?"_

 _"God, no!"_

 _"But you're so good with the girls," Elsie observed. "Especially Mary, who most people think is an utter nightmare."_

 _"She's a teenage girl," Charles defended his God-daughter. "And only an occasional nightmare. No, I feel about children the way I feel about dogs."_

 _"This should be good."_

 _"I love them, so long as they belong to someone else," Charles elucidated. "I can tolerate them, play with them, and even enjoy their company, but only because I know they'll be going home eventually."_

 _"Do you mean that?"_

 _"Absolutely. When I babysit or dog sit, I do have fun, but when they leave, I always think 'Thank God for the quiet,'" Charles professed. "I've had my fill of snotty-nosed children running things below stairs. I almost feel as though I've raised dozens of teenagers. I'm not so narcissistic as to require the perpetuation of my specific genetic code."_

 _Elsie laughed. "That's very progressive of you."_

 _"My only potential regret is… I know Mum would have liked grandchildren," Charles said thoughtfully._

 _"Will she expect them?" Elsie wondered. "When she learns we're together?"_

 _"She'll ask, but she won't press." Charles predicted. "Besides, she has her cats and that annoying pug. She's happy enough and she'll only care whether or not I'm happy."_

 _"And will you be?"_

 _"I will be if you are," Charles answered immediately. "But if you change your mind, I'd be easily persuaded."_

 _"What about all your grand talk of not needing to perpetuate your genetic code?"_

 _"It isn't my genetic code that's worth perpetuating," Charles flirted. "But…Not to put the cart ahead of the horse, mind you. But, assuming things work out, I look forward to welcoming Becky into our home."_

 _"Damn it," Elsie chastised him. "You promised not to make me cry."_

 _"I didn't mean to."_

 _"I know."_

 _"Are you almost there? I have to leave for the Abbey soon."_

 _"I'm close. What's going on today that's so urgent that you couldn't take half a day off to drive with me?"_

 _"There's a photoshoot for the website and a new brochure," Charles said with disdain. "We're putting an emphasis on the wine weekends this go round."_

 _"I imagine they're as lucrative as weddings without the hassle of a bridezilla and a mother of the bridezilla," Elsie teased._

 _"You'd be surprised how fastidious these wine enthusiasts can be."_

 _"No, I wouldn't," Elsie teased. "Well, I'm here."_

 _He heard her put the car into park. They both sat silently for a moment._

 _"They're just opening. I should go."_

 _"When will I see you?"_

 _"Come to the soft open next Thursday," she invited._

 _"Critics don't usually come to those," Charles protested. "That's your opportunity to work out the kinks, run the staff through their paces… not that I have to tell you that."_

 _"I know, but we aren't planning the official launch until the next Friday," Elsie informed him desperately. "Daisy wanted the extra week and I agreed because we still don't have our blasted liquor license. That means an extra week until we can officially tell everyone we're seeing each other. But, if you come on Thursday, you can make your report the Saturday immediately following. And then..."_

 _"We can go public? My review will have to be impartial," Charles warned. "Maybe even brutally honest. Will you and Beryl be ready for that?"_

 _"Beryl won't be there. She was making Daisy too nervous hanging about," Elsie related. "When left to it, Daisy's a natural leader in the kitchen."_

 _"And you think she's ready?"_

 _"_ _The soft opening is just a formality really," Elsie declared confidently. "_ _We're bringing in staff from the other restaurants to ease the transition. What could go wrong?"_

 _"Alright, I'll be there."_

 **TBC…**

* * *

 **AN/ Next chapter, a quick glimpse at the soft open (though we know a bit of how that went) and then back to the present!**

 **Thank you for your faithful follows and for reading/ reviewing.**


	15. Part Fifteen

Two Days ago, Yorkshire…

Charles Carson sat at his table for one listening to the server describe the specials. He only half heard the young lady speaking about the Mackerel three ways. He'd been seated for ten minutes but had not seen Elsie. This seemed strange to him. Her role was to run the front of house, so her absence was notable.

"I'll start with the lamb," Charles began his order. "Medium to medium rare. And for main…I think I'd like the rabbit medley."

"Excellent choices, sir," the server responded cheerfully. Too cheerfully for Charles' taste, but he couldn't fault her enthusiasm. "As you've been told, our liquor license is probationary."

"Which means?"

"Though we will have an extensive wine list and cocktail menu when we open, currently, we can only offer beer," the server explained. "Due to the inconvenience, it is our pleasure to offer complimentary beverages this evening beyond still, sparkling, or tap water. We have paired beer with each course or, if you prefer a non-alcoholic option, we have flavored seltzers."

"I'll take the beer pairing, please," Charles requested. He was impressed by Elsie's solution to the liquor license snafu.

The server made a notation on her very modern handheld and excused herself. Still looking for Elsie, Charles took out his own tablet and jotted down a few notes. He was still learning this new technology and found it fiddly. He doodled a note about the decor and marveled as the software translated his neat script into a crisp font. He made some other odd notes, mainly to see if he could fool the program. He chuckled to himself as he scrawled a messy note about the napkins. His beer arrived quickly and he sipped at the Scottish ale contentedly. The other diners seemed to be enjoying themselves, but Elsie's absence still bothered him.

When his Lamb lollipops arrived Charles forced a smile to hide his growing worry. This lamb was rare and the garnish was not what had been described. He made a notation on his tablet, but he doubted this review would see the light of day. Apparently, only Charles had noticed, but something was deeply wrong in the kitchen.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" the returning server inquired.

Instead of pointing out the deficiencies with his starter, Charles asked, "Is Ms. Hughes in tonight?"

The server blanched for a moment, but, to her credit, quickly recovered. "Yes, she is here."

"Where?" Charles looked about them.

"I expect you anticipated seeing her in the dining room?"

"I did."

"Our head chef was called away suddenly and Ms. Hughes has been overseeing the kitchen in her absence."

"Is Daisy well?"

"Oh, you know Mrs. Mason?"

Charles hid his disappointment at not having been anticipated and recognized. Surely, Elsie had warned her staff regarding a visiting critic. "I'm Charles Carson. I know Mrs. Mason and Ms. Hughes very well."

"Oh!" The server turned a whiter shade of pale. " _You're_ Mr. Carson?"

"Last I checked."

"Bollocks," the girl said under her breath. Her eyes darted to a table at the far side of the dining room. A middle-aged couple were sat happily laughing and eating. A very attentive runner hovered nearby. In a moment Charles saw the error. He recognized the diners as Dr. and Mrs. Eliot Carson, inhabitants of Ripon. Though they were not closely related, Charles had met the doctor and his wife before.

"It's an understandable mistake," Charles said magnanimously though he knew if Elsie were running the front of house, she would have seen the difference between Carson, party of one, and Carson, part of two.

"We've offered them a tour of the kitchens," the server moaned.

Charles hid a smile behind his hand. "You'd better warn Mrs. Hughes."

"Blimey!" Her cool demeanor evaporated, the server rushed away to the kitchen leaving Charles with his bubble and squeak and cold lamb.

With the mystery of the night solved, Charles slid his tablet back into his attaché. As he ate, he watched the kitchen door with anticipation. Less than a minute later, Elsie herself came gliding out of the kitchen. To most people she would have appeared perfectly calm and collected. To Charles' knowing eye, she looked ready to spit fire. He sipped at his ale nonchalantly as she approached.

"Charles," she greeted him with a nod.

"Elsie," he nodded back.

"I jinxed myself," she said simply.

"Do you have a moment to sit?"

"I've left Ivy in charge, so I can only stay for a moment." She took the empty chair across from him and smiled serenely.

"Is Daisy alright?" Charles asked kindly.

"William needed help with the baby," Elsie explained. "But I believe they are all well."

"Are you cooking?" Charles snickered.

"No, merely helping Ivy expedite the pass." Her eyes wandered to his plate and she gave a weary sigh. "Is that anything like what you ordered?"

"It's lamb," Charles answered casually.

"It's rare," Elsie observed. "You never order your lamb rare."

"Perhaps I should start," Charles said bracingly. "This is quite good. Local lamb, of course?"

"It might have come right off the grill of your car," Elsie teased, her mood temporarily lifting. I crashed again quickly. "But served with cabbage and turnip?"

"I take it that's meant to go with the sausage starter that I almost ordered," Charles speculated. "The kitchen must be a little discombobulated with Daisy gone."

"It's absolute chaos," Elsie admitted. "She's been tweaking the dishes all week and, when she left, she took all knowledge of the final recipes with her. None of the sous chefs seem to agree on the definitive version of any of the dishes. We've sent out almost twenty plates of the rabbit medley and I think each one has been different!"

"I like the chairs," Charles offered desperately. He wanted her to focus on something positive. "They're very comfortable."

"The chairs?" Elsie was incredulous. "I dare say the chairs on the Titanic were comfortable, but little good did it do them."

"Elsie, look around. Everyone is enjoying themselves," Charles soothed. He could see Elsie starting to let the stress overwhelm her. "Only people who know the industry would suspect anything was amiss."

"Do you think so?" Elsie asked hopefully.

"It's the perfect swan, as my Da would have said."

Elsie smiled. She did remember the elder Carson comparing the well run house to a swan. 'Gliding smoothly above the water; paddling like mad below the water.' "We are definitely paddling like mad," Elsie allowed.

"But out here, there's not a feather out of place. People are loving the food," Charles assured her. He tapped his beer glass. "And free beer. Speaking of which, may I say, you've brilliantly turned a potential inconvenience into an asset."

Elsie blushed at the compliment.

"And, don't worry about the review," he smiled. "Now that I know Daisy isn't here, how could I offer a fair assessment?"

"Does this mean we have to wait another week?" Elsie frowned.

"It doesn't have to," Charles replied. "We have options…"

"I have to go," Elsie looked around at the kitchen as though she sensed something might be wrong. The server was approaching with his main course. "I'll be fixing this mess most of tomorrow and Saturday. Can we meet on Sunday?"

"Brunch after church?"

"Sounds wonderful," Elsie smiled genuinely as she stood. "Thank you, for the pep talk."

"Anytime."

The server placed the warm plate in front of him. "We have braised leg of rabbit, a rabbit and porter stew, terrine made with the loins…" She stumbled, unable to identify the final two items on the plate. Charles suspected the poor lass had probably served a dozen different variations on this dish.

"It looks wonderful," Charles enthused. He did not point out that the fifth portion of 'rabbit' on the dish resembled a fried piece of mackerel.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson," the young girl smiled appreciatively. "The beer pairing with this dish is a locally brewed Belgian-style wheat beer. Enjoy."

Charles looked down at his rabbit and fish medley. He refrained from taking a picture to send to Elsie. In fact, he started with the fish just in case she returned to check on his main. The pint of beer arrived and Charles took a large swig with a chuckle. Yes, he thought, you can forgive any number of small sins when there's free beer.

It turned out that, though the mackerel didn't really compliment the rabbit, every component on the plate was prepared to perfection. Charles couldn't wait to see what the final menu would deliver. A runner cleared his plate and the server brought the dessert menu. After a quick perusal, Charles ordered the porter float with peanut butter ice cream.

"Very good, Mr. Carson," the girl affirmed. She took the menu from him before handing him something else. "Mrs. Hughes thought you might also like to see the wine list and cocktail menu, Mr. Carson."

"Thank you."

Charles looked down at the back of the menu and smiled. There was a note thanking a 'Mr. Trevor Cleaton of White's London' for his consultation on cocktails. Charles opened the drinks menu to the first page to find all three signature cocktails and an addition.

 _The Butler- With amaretto, bourbon and scotch, this is our modern twist on a whiskey sour. (Note: there are bells on the bar. If you want a Butler, just ring.)_

-00-

'Present', Yorkshire...

Charles couldn't believe his good fortune. He'd arrived tonight expecting to serve his penance for his role in criticizing Elsie's restaurant on radio. Now, she'd asked him to stay the night and he knew he would be accepting that invitation. Since his arrival, the air had been heavy with tension between them, but with the night's outcome all but assured, the anxiety melted into passion. Charles could relax and concentrate on the moment.

Elsie and Charles had moved from the kitchen to the couch, kissing the whole way. There were now cuddling and snogging on the couch. Though Elsie had expressly invited Charles to stay the night, he was wary of moving too quickly. They'd spent the last six weeks rebuilding their friendship and trust, but it still felt fragile. Their interactions had primarily consisted of late night phone calls or random texts. They'd had little chance to venture past frivolous flirting. Thus, one glaringly important subject remained unexamined; London. Charles suspected there was still part of her that blamed him for London, a part of her that distrusted his declarations of devotion. This suspicion grew as their time on the couch drew on.

His hands boldly roamed Elsie's body which responded to him as though it remembered him. Her sighs and moans matched the sounds from his memory and his dreams, but something was off. Charles sensed that she was holding back from him, protecting herself. Every time Charles' hands moved too near more risqué areas of her body, he could feel Elsie tense up. He immediately returned his hands to approved territory. Initially content to focus on kissing, Charles stopped trying to push the boundaries. After fifteen minutes of intense snogging, Charles' lips were numb and he knew something needed to change.

"Elsie…Elsie…" He tried to break from kissing her, but his heart wasn't in it.

Elsie stopped kissing him and blinked at him bewilderedly. They were on her couch, kissing, and she was practically on top of him. Why would he want to stop? She looked down into his concerned eyes.

"What's wrong?" She asked breathlessly.

"I was going to ask you." His tone was gentle.

To her credit, Elsie did not pretend to misunderstand him. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. "I don't know. I've been waiting for tonight for…" _weeks? years?_ "…a long time."

"We both have, but something's not right, love," Charles said kindly. "We waited because we wanted to do things right this go round. For some reason, you're not comfortable and we shouldn't go on if you're not absolutely comfortable."

"Fine." Elsie pulled away from him and crossed her arms testily. "If you don't think anything is going to happen tonight you might want to leave."

"I'll leave if you ask me to," Charles pledged. "But I don't want to go."

"Where have I heard that before?" Elsie asked bitterly, but quickly recovered herself. She reached out a hand to hold his hand. Her shoulders relaxed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did," Charles disagreed. She'd confirmed his earlier theory. "But you're right. I know what's wrong now. You don't trust me. And it's my fault, because of London."

She didn't bother to deny it. "What can we do?"

"If you let me stay, I can finally offer you the explanation you deserve."

"Well, there's still wine and I'm not doing anything else…" Under the pretense of getting the wine, she stood and hurried out of the room. Elsie was embarrassed and keen to escape his frustratingly understanding gaze. She composed herself somewhat while in the kitchen.

"I don't need more wine," Charles declined when she returned with the bottle and two glasses.

"Just in case," Elsie insisted as she filled his glass and her own.

Charles waited for Elsie to make herself comfortable on the couch, facing him. They sat with their backs against opposite arm rests. Their hands were clasped together along the back of the couch. The wine glasses sat forgotten on the table.

"Have your parents ever asked you for a favor?" Charles asked.

Elsie was confused by the seemingly random question, but managed to answer, "No."

"If they did, could you refuse them?"

Elsie thought of everything her parents had done for her without ever asking anything in return. If the time came when they needed something from her, what wouldn't she give to the people to whom she owed everything? "No."

"There you have it."

"Have what?"

"The short version of why I left London."

"I think I'm going to need the long version."

TBC...

* * *

 **AN/ Parts of this were a bit rushed. I hope there aren't any typos, but, if there are, please forgive them.**

 **The Butler (recipe from Matt Mosley, PRLR in Kensington)**

 **0.5 oz Disaronno amaretto**  
 **1 oz Buffalo Trace bourbon**  
 **1 oz Ardbeg 10yo Scotch whiskey**  
 **1 oz fresh lemon juice**  
 **0.5 oz simple syrup**  
 **2 dashes Angosura bitter**  
 **1 egg white**

 **Add ingredients to shaker plus ice. Shake vigorously. Double strain contents into coupe glass and garnish with lemon cheek atop foam.**

 **[This one is probably my fave!]**


	16. Part Sixteen

**AN/ Thank you for your continued support! The reviews are very much appreciated. I'm trying to respond to them all, eventually.**

 **This is a loooong chapter that I hope will answer all (or at least most of) your (and Elsie's) questions, though it may raise others...**

* * *

Twenty years earlier… London

 _Charles hummed merrily to himself as he walked towards the Dog and Duck. Perhaps he was reading too much into Elsie's promise to 'talk' that night, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling hopeful. If she was open to telling Beryl about them, perhaps she was open to changing the status of their relationship. Maybe the next time his father came to London, Charles would bring Elsie to join them, like a real couple._

 _The sunshine of the day disappeared as Charles passed though the heavy pub doors. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he spied his father at a table in the corner._

 _"Morning, Da," Charles called as he hung his coat on a hook by the door._

 _James Carson waited for his son to approach the table. He was never one to raise his voice, in private or in public. He remained seated, hands primly folded in his lap. "Charles."_

 _"What brings you to town, Da? Is Mum okay?" Charles sat down and noticed the small tea pot and two cups on the table. His good mood evaporated. His father usually drank coffee with breakfast, as did Charles. There was only one reason James Carson would have ordered a pot of tea for them to share rather than just ordering two mugs of coffee. It was something the Carson family never talked about._

 _"Your Mum is well and sends her love."_

 _Without discussion, Charles picked up the teapot and began to pour. He prepared both cups identically; half full, one sugar, and a splash of milk._

 _"So you're here on His Lordship's business?"_

 _"I am, but we should order before I tell you about it."_

 _Charles picked up the menu and pretended to peruse a menu from which he'd ordered dozens of times. In his periphery, Charles could see his father pick up his teacup with two shaking hands. The palsy was as bad as Charles had ever seen it. Even with the cup only filled halfway some of the tea sloshed on to the table. James drank his tea, put the cup back on the saucer, and wiped up the spill with his napkin. Charles continued to read the menu as if he were trying to memorize it for a test._

 _The waitress arrived to take their order._

 _"The usual, Charlie?" She asked cheerily._

 _"Yes, please, Sophie. What'll you have, Da?"_

 _"Whatever he's having."_

 _"Right, two full fry ups with black pudding. Won't be a tick."_

 _"Eat here often, do you?" James asked._

 _"Only when I can afford it," Charles answered lightly. "Or when someone else is buying."_

 _"It's on the estate today," James said magnanimously._

 _"We should have ordered more," Charles joked. "I could take leftovers back for the girls."_

 _"That would be taking advantage of His Lordship's generosity," James frowned._

 _"I was kidding, Da." Charles was surprised his father hadn't caught the joke. Clearly his mind was on other, more serious subjects._

 _"Right, sorry, I should have known. We raised you better than that," James acknowledged distractedly._

 _"Yes, sir." Charles felt a deep foreboding. What could have his father so preoccupied?_

 _"Well, I don't have all day, so I might as well come out with it." James took a deep breath. "I've handed in my resignation and they've accepted."_

 _"What? You're leaving Downton?"_

 _"Not exactly leaving, but I will no longer be butler."_

 _"Congratulations?" Charles offered tentatively._

 _"It isn't by choice. Things…this…" James held out his hands, inviting Charles to view the palsy openly for the first time in his life. Even holding nothing, both hands trembled more than Charles had ever seen before. James quickly hid his hands back below the table. "It's too much now."_

 _"I'm sorry, Da. This must be hard for you."_

 _"I didn't come here for your pity, lad," James said shortly. "I came here to offer you my job."_

 _"Ha! Me? Butler of Downton Abbey?" Charles guffawed before he could stop himself. His father scowled. Charles recovered and stammered in shock, "But…I'm not… qualified."_

 _"You still have a lot to learn," James agreed. "But His Lordship has generously agreed that I can train you on the job. I would stay on as steward and you would be butler. I'll only stay on as long as you need me to."_

 _Charles' brain raced. He didn't know what to say. He had no aspirations to follow in his father's footsteps. How could he turn down the job without insulting both his father and Lord Grantham? Charles was rescued from answering by the arrival of their food. James turned his concentration to eating his breakfast. He seemed more relaxed and his hands shook less now that he'd delivered his intended message. Father and son ate in silence for a few minutes until James set down his fork to rest his hand._

 _"You don't have to start right away, Charles. You're only auditing your classes, but you owe your current employers two weeks notice," James chatted lightly. "Your Mum's already started preparing your old room, but you can choose to live in the dorms if you prefer."_

 _"Da, before you get carried away, let me stop you there," Charles jumped in when his father paused for a sip of tea. Charles noted that his hands were much steadier now. "I don't see why you have to retire because of… the palsy."_

 _To his credit, James only flinched slightly when Charles spoke the dreaded word. "I can't wait at table like this."_

 _"But that's no reason to leave," Charles reasoned. "How often do you actually wait at table anymore? Four times a year? You can use local seasonal workers for that."_

 _"I might consider that if it were just about serving, but there's more." James glanced around them to see if anyone could overhear. He was ashamed of what he must confess. "The young Viscount has started taking a hand in running the estate. He came back from his last term raving about how computers are the future. He bought two for the estate and he wants all the records done on the vile contraptions. The calendar is electronic. The bookkeeping is electronic. I've tried to learn the new system, but it's stressful and it makes the shaking worse. I can't type under those conditions."_

 _"Once you learn the software, it won't be as stressful and maybe-"_

 _"Don't patronize me, lad," James cut him off sharply. "Your Mum can try to sell me sunshine and puppies, but I'll not take it from you. I can't learn it. I've tried. I can't do it. And there's the end to it. I can't tell you how many times I've erased an entire morning's work because I hit 'delete' by mistake."_

 _"Alright," Charles gave up. "It's your decision; yours and Mum's."_

 _James nodded and picked up a corner of toast. His hand was shaking worse now. Charles had never realized how much his father's state of mind affected his palsy. Charles felt a knot forming in his stomach. This conversation was going to be difficult enough without a visible barometer of how much Charles' words upset his father._

 _"We're still months away from the busy season, but I'd like to have you there as soon as possible," James started up as if Charles had already accepted the position. "It'll be easier to train you while it's quiet."_

 _Charles took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The longer he avoided setting things straight, the worse it would be. "Da."_

 _"Hm?"_

 _"It's very generous of His Lordship to think of me…"_

 _"It were Lady Grantham who thought of it," James informed his son, momentarily dropping into his native vernacular. "But His Lordship loved the idea. He said, 'Downton isn't Downton without a Carson serving at table.'"_

 _These words angered Charles and gave him the courage he needed. "I imagine he'll get used to it."_

 _"Excuse me?"_

 _"Do you hear yourself? 'Without a Carson serving at table'? As if we're as interchangeable as light bulbs! One goes out…plug another one in?"_

 _James looked at his son with confusion. "I thought this would be welcome news, but, obviously, it isn't. Are you saying you don't want the job?"_

 _"When have I ever expressed any interest in becoming butler?" Charles demanded. "I'm studying to be a sommelier. What do you think I've been doing the past year?"_

 _"I thought that was just something to fill your time, see the world, and pad your CV until you could take over as butler," a truly befuddled James confessed. He'd never considered the possibility that Charles wouldn't jump at the chance to take his rightful place at Downton. "You'll be in charge of a whole cellar of wines at Downton."_

 _"No offense to Lord and Lady Grantham, but it isn't the most exciting cellar. They know what they like and they stick to it. I could tell you the exact contents of the cellar at this moment, give or take two bottles," Charles claimed with a reluctant defiance. He didn't want to be unkind, but he needed his father to understand why becoming butler was not his dream. "You're probably down to half a case of claret and were due to order another at the beginning of next month."_

 _James remained darkly silent. Charles felt the knot in his gut tighten. He knew this kind of silence. It was the silence of disappointment. James had learned early on that disappointment was the best way to influence a child always so eager to please as Charles. Charles was determined not to be manipulated the way he had been as a child. He was a man now and his father needed to treat him as one._

 _"I'm sorry, Da. I'm sure-"_

 _"You have to come back, lad. Your Mum and I will have to leave our home if you don't take the position," James said calmly, but Charles could hear the desperation creeping into his voice._

 _"Why?"_

 _"It's the Butler's Cottage, it comes with the job."_

 _"Says who? Whoever comes in will live where His Lordship tells them," Charles reasoned. "Or His Lordship will set you up somewhere else on the estate. Who knows, Mum might like a smaller house to keep."_

 _James did not smile at Charles' attempt at levity. Charles leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. He knew that sometimes, there was just no reasoning with his father._

 _"Oh, for God's sake, Da! Why do you always have to be so dramatic?" Charles exclaimed with exasperation. "Just talk to His Lordship. They'll not kick you out of your home."_

 _"You think it's as easy as that?" James asked bitterly._

 _"I think you're seeing problems where they don't exist," Charles countered. "If you can't work anymore, retire. I'll help however I can, but I won't be taking your place."_

 _"But the acceptance of my resignation_ depends _upon you taking my place," James informed his son in an imploring voice._

 _"What? That doesn't make any sense. If you resign, there's the end to it. They can't force you to stay," Charles argued. "What are they going to do? Chain you to the sideboard?"_

 _"Lord Grantham isn't well. He's in a delicate state, he can't take any stress," James explained. "When I tried to tender my resignation to Lady Grantham, she came up with the compromise of bringing you in to replace me. We agreed than anything more might kill Lord Grantham."_

 _"I'm sorry to hear His Lordship is unwell, but I seriously doubt this will kill him," Charles contended. "If you believe it will, then you shouldn't retire."_

 _"I'm glad your Mum isn't here to see what a selfish and ungrateful welp we raised. After all His Lordship has done for us…"_

 _"Done for us?" Charles was incredulous. "And what exactly has he done for us that we didn't earn?"_

 _"Whose roof do you think you've been living under your whole life? And where do you think the money for your schooling came from?" James demanded. "It all depended on the generosity of the Crawley family."_

 _"The Crawleys are good people, but they've never_ given _us 'ought. We worked for everything we had; you and Mum and me," Charles fumed. For some reason, the idea that he owed anything to the Crawleys angered him. "I've worked for them since I turned ten. I spent my eleventh birthday parking cars for a wedding because a valet didn't show. I didn't have a license, but I could reach the pedals so off I went. They gave me five quid for the day while the other valets were paid that much per hour plus tips! And I didn't get my birthday dinner."_

 _"You're still bitter about that?"_

 _"I'm not bitter, I'm only saying that we've made as many sacrifices for them as they've made for us," Charles pointed out. "You started working for them when you were eight. You've given Downton almost 50 years of your life. When they lost millions in the market, who expanded the catering and event planning? Who helped them keep the estate intact? You have done as much as Lord Grantham has to save Downton, maybe more."_

 _"What's your point?"_

 _"If you want to retire, they should respect that and let you stay in your home," Charles said with a calm ferocity. "You don't owe them your firstborn son and I certainly don't owe them anything."_

 _"I thought you cared for Downton as much I do," James said sadly._

 _"I do care for it, and it will always be my home, but I want more. I don't want to be part of Robert's inheritance."_

 _"You want to be a glorified bartender."_

 _"I'm sorry if that's how you see it, but did you really push me to get top marks through school just so I could stay at Downton?"_

 _James glared at his son. Charles glared back. They were at an impasse._

 _The waitress removed their plates full of uneaten food and hastily retreated from the tense table. Charles sighed as she left them alone again. He'd never been able to sustain anger for any amount of time. He leaned over and picked up the tea pot. He prepared two half cups as before. James accepted the peace offering and picked up the cup with two trembling hands. With great concentration, he managed to sip his tea without spilling. Charles drank his own tea in silence._

 _"You used to be such an obedient lad," James said with a slow shake of his head. He was calmer now, but sadder. "When did you become so obstinate?"_

 _"I not being obstinate and I'm not a lad," Charles said in a voice that was barely a whisper. He regretted being at odds with his father, but he couldn't leave London now. Not when things with Elsie might be changing._

 _"Is there a lass?"_

 _"What?" Charles was startled. James was not usually so perceptive._

 _"A lass. Your Mum thinks you're soft on one of your flatmates."_

 _"Why would she think that?" Of course his mum would have suspected. "I didn't…I haven't told her anything…"_

 _"So there is something to tell?"_

 _"I dunno, might be." Tried to be nonchalant. He didn't want to discuss Elsie with his father when things were still in flux.  
_

 _"It's not the loud one, is it?"  
_

 _"Her name is Beryl," Charles chuckled slightly. "And, no, there's nothing between us."_

 _"Good," James sighed. "But it can't be the Scottish lass… Elsie, was it?"_

 _"Why can't it be her?"_

 _"For one, you'd be punching above your weight there, lad."_

 _"Thanks, Da."_

 _"I'm just saying- a sharp and ambitious lass like that isn't going to slow down for anyone," James didn't mean to be cruel, he was just speaking frankly. He could see that he'd hurt Charles' feelings and tried to backpedal. "For another thing, she can't be older than twenty."_

 _"She's a very mature twenty," Charles said defiantly. "What's more, she's the kindest, funniest, and smartest person I know."_

 _"So there is something between you?"_

 _"It's…complicated," Charles admitted._

 _"Do you love her?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Does she love you?"_

 _"I… I think so. I hope so."_

 _"What makes it complicated?"_

 _"It's still informal," Charles shrugged. "We don't get to see each other much. At present, she's pretty busy with classes and she works."_

 _"When will she be done with school?"_

 _"She and Beryl should be done by summer. Though, if they win their class project, they'll be in London through next year."_

 _James contemplated this new information. "She'd be welcome at Downton, you know. As butler, you could hire whomever you wanted."_

 _"She wouldn't want to come back to Yorkshire."_

 _"She might, if she loves you."_

 _"Elsie's destined for better things than Downton," Charles asserted confidently.  
_

 _"But are you?" James asked, not unkindly. "You were born to this job, son. It's in your blood. It's your birthright."_

 _"I don't want it." Charles' voice was calm, but stern._

 _James was convinced. He could see that his son was serious about building a life beyond Downton, but he was driven by his own need. He couldn't give up just yet. "Tell me, lad. Would you consider coming to Downton and helping me through this summer?"_

 _"What good would that do?"_

 _"It will ease the transition with the family and give me time to find a proper replacement. Who knows, you might even be able to teach me to use the computer," James offered with a smile._

 _"I'm not sure," Charles vacillated._

 _James saw Charles' hesitation and felt encouraged. "You said yourself that your lass will be too busy for you until then. Best for you to keep busy too."_

 _"I can be busy in London," Charles objected meekly.  
_

 _James played his last remaining card. "I'm a proud man, Charles, and I don't like to do this…"_

 _"Then don't…"_

 _"You know what it costs me to ask this."_

 _"Please…" Charles begged, anticipating what was coming._

 _"I'm asking for a favor here, lad."_

 _Charles knew he was defeated. He could not refuse a request for a favor from his father. He had to offer one last plea, "Don't ask me for this, Da."_

 _"Nine months, maybe twelve, but no more than that," James negotiated. "You have my word."_

 _Charles trusted his father to keep his word, but he still hesitated to agree. As far as his hopes for becoming a sommelier, a twelve month hiatus would be an inconvenience, but not the end of the world. He'd have to put off going to the course in Paris this year, but, if he applied himself, there was much he could learn at Downton._

 _Charles' main worry was what this would mean for Elsie and him. Was there a chance this might actually help them? Likely, Elsie would be so busy over the next year that any attempt to be a real couple would be doomed. It's why they'd agreed to the current arrangement in the first place. Since the start of their 'relationship', Charles had graduated from the program. He still unofficially attended extension classes, but he was mostly working. Charles was certain he was ready to be part of a committed couple, but was Elsie? Maybe if they took some time apart, it would be easier to take things to the next level later._

 _He couldn't ask her to wait for him, that wasn't part of the agreement. It might create drama if he promised to return in nine months. Charles would just have to make it clear that he didn't want to leave London. Surely, she'd understand everything when he told her about his father's malady._

 _"Alright, Da," Charles agreed. "But no more than one year."_

 _"Good lad," James smiled._

 _Charles stared wistfully across the room to the table where he and Elsie had first discussed becoming friends with benefits. What was he risking by leaving now?_

 _"You don't have to look so depressed by it," James said bracingly. "It will be nice to have you home for even a little while. Your Mum and Robert will be dead chuffed."_

 _"I'm not looking forward to telling Elsie… and Beryl," Charles frowned.  
_

 _"You'll make enough to cover your share of the rent until they find someone," James offered helpfully before becoming deathly serious. "But you can't tell them about my… condition."_

 _"Why not?"_

 _"They're still friends with Downton folk and I won't have any in the village to know," James_ _"Only your Mum and the Crawleys know. This is hard enough without having to endure other people's pity."_

 _"They won't tell anyone," Charles assured him._

 _"They might not mean to, but they'd eventually betray my secret," James maintained.  
_

 _"They won't say anything."_

 _"Tell them I'm retiring and need you home, but don't mention my hands," James insisted. "Promise me."_

 _"Da."_

 _"Promise me, lad."_

 _"I promise."_

 _Satisfied, James reached into his coat pocket and removed an envelope. "Robert sent this for you. It's an advance of your pay and the address for a tailor who can take care of your livery while you're still here in town."_

 _Charles mirthlessly took the letter from his father's only slightly trembling hand. When Charles opened it later he would find an enthusiastic note from Robert welcoming him home. It included a long list of ideas for improving Downton._

 _This was Charles' first hint that leaving Downton might be harder than his father had promised._

 _TBC..._

* * *

 **AN/ Charles still has some explaining to do, but I hope this answers the big questions.** **Anyone who's been the target of a full bore parental guilt trip should understand.** **He was sworn to secrecy about his father's palsy and he thought it was just a temporary break. We know now that it wasn't, but he couldn't have foreseen. Let's hope Elsie can learn to trust him again.**

 **On a complete tangent... I've been bingeing a fun series on Netflix- Lords and Ladles. If you're into antique menus, cooking process, and estate house food, it's an interesting watch. Just 6 episodes. They're Irish estates, but you meet the families and see how some large houses are still managing to survive in today's economy. Might be useful background for people writing modern AU...**

 **Anyhoo, enjoy your weekend! I look forward to week 3 of the unofficial Series 9!**


	17. Part Seventeen

**AN/ I'm glad the reasoning from the last chapter made sense. As some people pointed out, it doesn't quite account for 20 years of 'estrangement'. The next few chapters are more explanation and more angst...**

* * *

Present (late September 2016), Yew Tree Farm…

Charles finished his story and silently awaited her response. Elsie bit her lower lip as she considered the implications of his disclosure. They sat facing each other. Their hands no longer touched along the back of the couch, but their fingertips were only an inch apart. Unable to stand the tension, Charles reached for his wine glass and, with a self-deprecating smile, took a few sips. Smiling back sadly, Elsie followed his example. Before drinking, she raised her glass to him in an ironic salute.

"He didn't leave you much choice, did he?" She finally observed. She'd long suspected that Charles had been emotionally blackmailed into returning to Yorkshire. He certainly hadn't seemed keen to return. But this was more than she'd expected.

"If there was a way out, I couldn't find it," Charles said softly.

Elsie nodded and drank again. It seemed cruel to her that one of Charles' greatest strengths, his sense of loyalty, had been turned against him by his own family. If he'd defied his father, he wouldn't be the Charles that she knew. His humble nature had also been used against him. Charles could be prideful at times, but he was never arrogant. James had exploited that trait in his son.

"You didn't believe him, did you?"

"I honestly believed it would only be a year," Charles claimed.

"No, I mean about you punching above your weight."

"Da only reinforced what I already knew," Charles claimed. "I knew you were ambitious- you'd said so yourself."

"But so were you," Elsie reminded him. "He shouldn't have told you that Downton was the best you could do."

"Turns out he was right," Charles tried to joke lamely.

"That's called a self-fulfilling prophecy," Elsie said crossly. She was not inclined to think well of James Carson at the moment.

"Da was just scared. You knew him. He was usually very supportive of me."

"When he thought you were going to follow his footsteps," Elsie asserted bitterly.

"Don't blame him. I'm the one you should be angry with," Charles frowned. "This was all my fault."

"Not all your fault. I should have said something," Elsie reproached herself. "Then you might have known that you could ask me to wait."

"That wasn't the arrangement," Charles reminded her yet again.

"Bugger the arrangement," Elsie bit back. "One of us should have said something! I would have except-"

She stopped short. A terrible thought occurred to her. "Do you remember talking to Beryl that evening?" She asked. "At work?"

Charles looked perplexed as he set aside his wine glass. "All I remember about work that night is waiting nervously to tell Mssr. Maurice I had to leave," he recalled. "And then, I remember him yelling at me after I did. He didn't even want me to finish my shift. He definitely didn't want two weeks' notice."

"But Beryl did come by," Elsie insisted. "She told me she stopped in and you gave her some sherry."

This triggered Charles' memory, "Ah, yes. I do remember. She came in just after we opened. It was slow and I was prepping the bar. A distribution rep had just left us some free sherry samples, I think. I knew Beryl liked sherry, so I poured her some."

"Do you remember what you talked about?" Elsie inquired.

"I was pretty distracted…" Charles concentrated for a bit before it came to him. "As I recall, she seemed nervous about something. She wasn't at all herself."

"You must remember _something_ ," Elsie prompted.

"Oh!" Charles sat up straight as he remembered. "God, I'd completely forgotten!"

"Yes?"

"That's the night she was hitting on me!"

"Hitting on you?" Elsie questioned skeptically.

"She started talking about how friendships can turn into something more," Charles recounted. "And how one day you just look up and see someone in a new light. I'll tell you, I was pretty uncomfortable."

Elsie just looked at him and waited to see if the truth would dawn on him.

"What?"

Elsie waited. She could see his brain processing the memory, searching for clues. She saw a tiny change in his expression before-

"Fuck!" Charles cursed suddenly and slapped his forehead. "Charles Carson, you narcissistic fuck!"

Despite the seriousness of the topic, Elsie had to laugh. For some reason, hearing Charles curse always amused her.

"She wasn't chatting me up, was she?" Charles asked, disheartened.

Elsie shook her head with a small, sad smile.

"She was talking about you and me."

Elsie nodded.

"And I told her we were just friends," Charles sighed. "Sure to be lifelong friends, but… just friends."

Elsie closed her eyes and nodded again. Hearing those words directly from him, even twenty years after hearing them from Beryl, still hurt her.

"And she told you," Charles put the last piece of the puzzle in place. "Then, I come home and tell you I'm leaving for Downton and that we shouldn't attempt a long-distance romance. I can't blame you for not saying anything when I left."

"But I could see that you didn't want to go."

"I should have told you more then, but I told myself there would be other chances for me to tell you how I felt after I left," Charles owned. "But when I tried... I think we might have been cursed."

Charles looked so sad, Elsie wanted to comfort him. She leaned over, caressed his face, and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you used the past tense there, but we were star-crossed to be sure. Like Romeo and Juliet."

"Only we didn't die," Charles pointed out.

"No," Elsie smiled ruefully. "We just got old."

She nestled beside him and put her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her gratefully.

"We're not old," Charles protested.

"Well, we're not young."

They sat snuggled like this in silence for a short while. They weren't yet finished resolving the past. If they were going to finish this conversation, they would both need this extra reassurance.

"You mentioned other chances," Elsie began.

"Mmhm," he hummed.

"Like when you came back to London for our project opening," Elsie realized. She felt rather than saw him nod.

-00-

19 years ago (1997), London

Charles sat awkwardly on the couch he had helped move into the flat over a year ago. He was dressed in a sharp sports coat and crisp trousers. Alone in the sitting room, Charles looked around this familiar space that had changed so drastically in four months. Beryl and Elsie had redecorated after he moved out. This was now definitively the flat of two young women. He was staring at a movie poster featuring Ewan McGregor which now hung on the wall when Elsie bustled in. She looked stunning in a simple, sensible pant suit that gave her an air of authority.

"Beryl is running late, as usual!"

"Good thing you lied to her about the start time," Charles chuckled.

"Shhh!" Elsie shushed him. "I've been doing it for weeks and I think she's starting to suspect."

She came back from the kitchen with a gin and tonic and joined Charles on the couch.

"Nervous?" He asked.

"No, I always drink G&Ts at four in the afternoon," Elsie answered sarcastically.

"Everything is going to be fine," Charles assured her. "You said the soft open went swimmingly."

"Apparently, that's the kiss of death for opening night," Elsie told him anxiously. "I never knew the restaurant crowd were so superstitious."

"With a less than twenty percent success rate, I suppose they want all the help they can get."

Beryl rushed through the room half-dressed with curlers in her hair. "I'm glad you brought your sunny optimism all the way from Yorkshire for us," she joked. "Elsie, have you seen my…nevermind! Found it!" She rushed back towards the bathroom.

Elsie laughed at her agitated roommate before turning back to Charles. "Honestly, we are glad you've come down to support us. It means a lot!"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss tonight for the world," Charles beamed.

Beryl's voice carried down the hall from the bathroom, "You're just here for the free food!"

"Guilty as charged!" Charles yelled back. More softly, he spoke to Elsie, "Thank you for letting me crash here."

"Considering you're still paying rent…" Elsie shrugged abashedly. They'd been too busy with the project to even consider finding a new flatmate, but Charles hadn't rushed them.

"I hope you didn't feel obligated."

"Of course not, Charlie," Elsie assured him. She finished her gin and hurried back to the kitchen for another. She was nervous about the restaurant opening, but she was more unsettled by Charles' presence. Elsie had spent four months trying to push him back into the friend zone. She'd only communicated with him through email since he'd left. The technology was still relatively new and her only access was a lab at the school or an internet café a block away. Though she checked her account daily, she limited herself to replying to him only every three days. Anything more and she feared she'd be welcoming more heartbreak. Being in the same room as Charles now was proving more difficult than she'd imagined.

When she returned, Charles was looking at her nervously. "I thought…" he started and stopped. "Only, I was planning to stop by the Dog and Duck for breakfast tomorrow. For old times' sake."

"Best black pudding south of Glasgow," Elsie responded overenthusiastically and grinning like an idiot. She silently cursed herself for being such a fool and sipped her gin.

"I know you'll be up late tonight, but… if you're available… that is, I wouldn't mind some company."

"I think Beryl has plans," Elsie answered though he clearly was not inviting Beryl.

Before Charles could clarify that he was asking Elsie to breakfast, Beryl reentered the room, fully dressed now and with most of the curlers out of her hair. She yanked the last one out and brushed out her hair before grabbing Elsie's glass and finishing off the drink. "Right," Beryl commanded. "We'd better get going if things kick off at half four."

"Did I say half four?" Elsie asked innocently. "I'm sure I told you five."

Beryl glared at her for a split second before plopping herself down in a chair. "So, Charlie, how's Downton treating you?"

"Alright. His Lordship's health has improved and I've been given all the credit, much to the doctor's chagrin," Charles joked. "I've been helping Da set up the new computer systems. He's starting to get the hang of it. I think he might be even reconsider retiring."

Elsie tried not to appear too interested in this news.

"That would put you out of a job," Beryl pointed out.

"Maybe," Charles shrugged. "I'm not sure it's what I'm cut out for anyway. I'll stay on through the wedding season so they aren't shorthanded, but after that…I'd like to return to London, maybe. It depends."

"On what?"

Charles glanced quickly at Elsie. The truth was, it all depended on what Elsie had to say tomorrow, but for now all he would say was, "Opportunities."

"Here's to opportunities!" Beryl began to toast with the glass full of ice. "Blimey, we need reinforcements!"

Beryl grabbed Elsie and headed into the kitchen. Very shortly, they returned with three glasses of gin and tonic. Charles stood and accepted his drink.

"Let me offer the first toast, ladies." He cleared his throat. "To the first of what I'm sure will be many successful collaborations. I won't say that I'm proud of you… because I all the credit belongs to you. Both of you should be very proud of what you've accomplished and I shall have to be content being proud to say I knew you when. Slainte mhath!"

They all clinked glasses and drank. While still drinking, Beryl raised her hand to signal that she called next toast.

"It's fitting that you're here tonight, Charlie, because we all started this journey together back in Yorkshire," Beryl acknowledged. "And Elsie, what can I say? You're a great friend and a gifted coordinator. I'm just riding your coattails tonight. I hope there are many more chances for Charlie to score some free food off of us. Here's to freeloaders! And here's to having the gang back together, even if it's just for one night."

They all drank.

"Thank you, Beryl," Elsie began her toast. "It's true enough that all of us had a part in tonight. Sounding board and taster might not be the most glamorous job, but-"

They all jumped as the phone rang noisily in the kitchen.

"Damn thing sounds like a Banshee," Beryl muttered as she hurried off to answer. Charles and Elsie shared a warm smile. Maybe the gin was starting to do its work or maybe it was because Elsie now knew that Charles hoped to return to London.

"Hullo?" They heard Beryl answer. "Yes...He's right here, Mrs. Carson."

Charles and Elsie exchanged anxious looks before Charles went into he kitchen. Beryl came out and rejoined Elsie. They did not have to strain to hear Charles' side of the conversation.

"Mum? No, we were just about to leave… What's- … Alright… What happened?... Where is he?...How is he?... Where are you?...Right, I'm… No, I'm coming back. I'll call you from the station when I know what time I'll be in… Love you, too."

After a few moments, Charles emerged from the kitchen. He was pale and drawn. Elsie marveled that anyone could age so much is so short a time.

"Da collapsed. They think it might be stroke." His voice was flat, almost emotionless as he relayed what little he'd been told. "They're taking him to the specialty ward in Ripon."

"How's he doing?" Elsie asked gently.

"They got to him quickly, so there's every hope of a full recovery, but…"

"Your Mum needs you," Elsie finished for him.

Charles nodded. "I'm so sorry, ladies. I know there's a seven o'clock to Ripon, but there might be an earlier one. I have to try."

"Of course," Elsie assured him.

"There'll be other opening nights," Beryl reminded him.

"Not like this one," Charles said sadly. He went down to his room where he'd dropped his small case upon arrival. Elsie and Beryl waited for him, holding hands. They could feel the shifting of their worlds. Tonight had started out as a celebration of their accomplishment as a team. Now, it felt like he was leaving them all over again. Beryl knew this would reopen a wound for Elsie and silently offered what little support she could.

Charles returned carrying his case in one hand and a bottle of Champagne in the other.

"Robert sent this, for your big night." He placed it on the table. "It's the good stuff, Beryl, so no orange juice," he joked weakly.

Beryl just nodded.

"I'll walk you down," Elsie offered. Charles started to protest, but stopped. He welcomed even a few moments alone with her.

As they walked down the steps they'd walked hundreds of times together for the last time, Charles struggled to speak. This felt like an ending. When he'd left four months earlier, it was with the hope of returning. Now, he had very little hope of leaving Yorkshire anytime soon. His parents would need him. Even if his father recovered, James wouldn't return as butler.

"I know it's a step back, but you and Beryl are always welcome at Downton. If you need a safety net. Not that you ever will," he hastened to add.

"I think the point of a net is to give the trapeze artists the confidence to try the really scary tricks," Elsie reasoned gently. "It helps just knowing it's there."

"I really wanted to be there tonight," Charles sighed. "I love seeing you in your element, ordering folks about and bringing off the perfect event."

"I doubt it will be perfect," Elsie said modestly.

"I don't," Charles said seriously. "I know better than to ever doubt you."

"I wish I were so sure."

"You've chosen a challenging road, love. The restaurant business can be brutal," Charles acknowledged. "You're going have set backs and nights that aren't perfect. You're going to encounter jerks who don't think women belong in the front of the house."

Elsie nodded her agreement. She's already met a few.

"They'll make you doubt yourself, but don't listen to them." They reached the bottom of the stairs and he turned to face her. Looking at her now, he wanted to tell her what he'd planned to say tomorrow at breakfast. But he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to burden her. Elsie was about to start the most exciting time of her life. Her career choices were infinite. Charles was about to return to unknown obligations in Yorkshire. Instead of confessing his love, Charles set down the case and opened his arms. Elsie accepted the unspoken invitation. They hugged silently for a few wonderful moments.

Finally, Charles sighed, "I wish…" He stopped. How could he tell her everything he wished?

"What?" Elsie asked. When he didn't answer, she drew back so she could see his face.

"I was going to say, I wish you all the luck in the world," Charles lied. "But you don't need luck, because you have talent. In fact, you are the most intelligent and capable person that I know. You're going to conquer the world, Els. Anything you want in this life is yours for the taking."

 _Not everything,_ Elsie thought, watching him pick up his suitcase, about to leave. She wanted to tell him that she finally understood her mother's decision to return to Argyll. She didn't need to conquer the world if they were together. She'd be content to be with him at Downton. Then she remembered that he didn't feel that way about her. Unable to speak she only smiled as he kissed her cheek.

"Give 'em hell tonight," Charles encouraged.

Elsie forced a sad smile and nodded. "Let us know about your Da."

"I will."

And he was gone. Elsie sat down on the steps and let her tears flow freely.

A few minutes later, Elsie heard Beryl coming down the steps. Beryl sat down beside her friend and offered a tissue. Elsie took it and dabbed at her eyes.

"I thought I was done crying over him," Elsie sniffed.

"He loves you," Beryl comforted her, putting her arm around Elsie's shoulders.

"Maybe, but not the way I love him."

"I'm not so sure. People change. Feelings change."

"Charles Carson doesn't change," Elsie pouted. "He'll always choose Downton over everything else."

Beryl couldn't argue with that. She'd seen how long it had taken Elsie to get over Charles' leaving. Elsie had hardened her heart in an attempt to heal. Beryl simply sat and let her friend have her cry until she checked her watch.

"Els, we have to go. We can't be late to our own event."

Elsie wiped her face and chuckled. "We won't be late. We don't have to be there until half five. The event doesn't start until six."

Beryl laughed and cried along with her friend. "Sometimes I hate you."

Elsie laughed harder, "The feeling's mutual."

TBC….

* * *

 **ETA/ *Yes, the movie poster featuring Ewan McGregor is for _Brassed Off._**


	18. Part Eighteen

Present (Late September 2016), Yew Tree Farm…

Charles hated to hear how much his leaving had hurt Elsie. He'd been naïve enough to think the heartbreak had been his alone. He hugged Elsie a little closer. She still lay back against him on her couch. They'd made progress tonight, bravely discussing wounds they'd hidden for years. Charles hoped there could be healing, but they still wanted some stitching up.

"As you know, Da's recovery went well, but he was never 100% himself again. There was no question of my leaving. I was stuck," Charles sighed.

"For twenty years?" Elsie wondered. There was no accusation in the question, only wonder.

"Don't think I just gave up," Charles defended himself. "You don't know how many times I tried to leave."

"What happened?"

"After a year, I thought Da was well enough for me to at least return to London. But every time I broached the topic, Da would have a setback," Charles remembered. "I think he was worried about Mum having to move house if I left. The stress of it often landed him back in hospital."

Elsie refrained from commenting on what she could only see as James Carson's blatant manipulation of his son.

"In those early years, you'd been to Barcelona, Grenada, Frankfurt, Salzburg, Chicago, Toronto, Belfast, and Paris."

"Do you remember everywhere I've been?" Elsie was impressed. She couldn't even keep track of all her travels.

"I've kept all the postcards you sent me," Charles confessed.

"What? All of them?"

Charles nodded. "Even those stupid ones that are just black and say, 'Rome at Night' or , _wherever_ 'at Night'."

Elsie giggled. "I love those."

"I know, I have a dozen of them," Charles shook his head in disbelief. "And one that's all white and says, 'San Francisco in the Fog'."

"I forgot about that one!" Elsie guffawed.

He harrumphed his displeasure at such simplistic humor.

"Oh, come on, Charlie, those are funny!" She looked back over her shoulder at him and could see he was holding back a smile.

"No, they aren't," he insisted with a forced seriousness.

"Fine, they're funny to me," Elsie confessed and nestled back comfortably against him. "All the more so because I knew how you would react. I enjoyed thinking of you here in Downton muttering something like, 'This makes no sense, Frankfurt at night would have lights,'" Elsie did a passable impression of a cranky Charles.

"Now that you mention it…" Charles grumped with a smirk.

"It's a joke, Charlie."

"It's a stupid joke," he muttered. "Honestly, you sent me one from Paris! Paris! The city of lights!"

"That's what makes it funny!" Elsie contended. "If they bothered you, why did you keep them?"

"For the stamps," he countered immediately, but his serious façade cracked and he chuckled.

"You old boobie," Elsie accused lovingly. She was enjoying this brief moment of levity. They needed something to cut through all the heavy subject matter. "I'm glad you kept them all. If I ever lose my CV, I may need those."

"I suggest you ask Beryl for hers. You've hurt my feelings," Charles said with mock indignation.

"But I've never sent Beryl any postcards."

"You… you haven't?" This honestly surprised him.

"You're the only person I mail those to," Elsie told him. "I thought you knew that."

"I thought you sent postcards to everyone!"

Elsie shook her head.

"Not even to Becky?"

"Becky hates postcards. She thinks the postman will read her mail."

"To be fair, in Downton, Mrs. Wigan does," Charles allowed. "But, I don't understand how this came about."

He was flummoxed. "Don't get me wrong, Els, I always enjoyed receiving them. It kept me… involved somehow. I know that's silly... But why was I singled out?"

"It just kind of happened," Elsie shrugged. "When I left London for Barcelona, you asked me to send you a postcard of the Gaudi house. You were probably joking, but I remembered and clung to it."

"What do you mean?"

"When I first stepped off the plane I was intimidated," Elsie remembered. "I'd never been so far from home. The climate was different, the language was different, and the people were different. I felt that I didn't belong there and I almost turned around and flew right back."

"But you didn't."

"I saw a rack of postcards and one was of the Gaudi house. It reminded me that I had an obligation to fulfill. It gave me something to focus on besides my self-doubt," Elsie recalled. "I bought the card and stamps before I left the airport. After I arrived at my lodgings, I unpacked, and then there was this terrible silence. I wasn't sure what to do with myself, so I took the postcard and a pen to a local tapas bar. I wrote to you as I sipped my wine."

"And that helped you?"

"I didn't feel lonely when I was writing to you. I've followed the same routine in every city. It's how I ground myself. It's how I feel connected to home." Elsie only realized this truth as she was saying it. "It's odd that I've traveled the world, but the place I felt furthest from you was Yorkshire."

"I understand what you mean. I've traveled the world with you, vicariously," Charles confirmed. "We never lost our connection until…"

"…Until I came back," Elsie finished his thought.

"Maybe it was because you didn't send me a postcard?" joked Charles, but his voice was gentle.

"They don't sell postcards of Downton," Elsie countered. "Not even Downton at night."

"There's a fortune to be made there," Charles chuckled before turning serious. "I remember getting your Paris postcard just after they admitted Lord Grantham for the last time. He died a few days later. Do you know, he stipulated in his will that my parents could stay in the butler's cottage so long as either of them lived?"

"That was kind of him," Elsie noted. It was kind, but it was yet another reason Charles would have felt indebted to the Crawleys.

"With Mum and Da provided for, I finally saw an opportunity to leave," Charles surprised her by admitting. "I waited a few months after His Lordship's death before approaching Robert. I told him that he should take the opportunity to install his own man; to put his own stamp on the estate. He looked as though I'd punched him in the stomach before stabbing him in the back. He was terrified of running the estate without me, he said. I tried to convince him he could do it, but he begged me and…"

"And you gave in," Elsie finished.

"I couldn't give him a good reason for leaving," Charles argued. "I could hardly say that I wanted to abandon him and take a massive drop in pay and prestige on the off chance that an ex-girlfriend might take me back."

"I wasn't even an ex-girlfriend, really."

"You see my dilemma," Charles sighed. "But, I thought I had a fool proof plan. I asked for four months off to take the sommelier class in Paris. He agreed, and even offered to pay for it."

"But… we were never in Paris at the same time," Elsie pointed out.

"No. We just missed each other by less than a month."

"Why didn't you say anything? I might have stayed in Paris if I knew you were coming."

"I wasn't sure how to tell you. I decided it would be easiest to surprise you," Charles admitted. "It sounded as though you'd be in Paris for a while."

"I had planned to be, but the opportunity in Florence came up so fast and was too good to pass up."

"I know," Charles accepted. "I was angry with myself for not telling you sooner, but that was when I realized that I could never keep up with you. Waiting seemed my best option."

"You decided to wait until I came back to Yorkshire?"

"I'd have settled for back in the UK, but I had reason to think you'd come to Yorkshire eventually," Charles claimed. "When Beryl left the Ritz to run the family B&B you promised her the two of you would work together again. I knew you'd keep your promise, so I decided to be patient."

"That was fifteen years ago," Elsie said with wonder. "No one is that patient."

"I didn't say it was easy," Charles replied. "I focused on staying busy. Da had a series of strokes not long after Lord Grantham's death. It was a swift decline. Less than a year after His Lordship's funeral, we were burying Da."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You were in Melbourne," Charles pointed out gently, seeking to dispel any guilt she might feel. "There was no thought of leaving for several years after that. I couldn't leave Mum."

"I remember that you wrote she was taking his death hard."

"I always thought it was Mum who kept Da together, but it turns out, she needed him as much as he'd ever needed her."

Elsie remembered his emails from that time. He'd written less often than usual. She'd have to send him two or three emails to illicit a response. When he did reply, his responses were short and lacking in his usual humor. She'd been worried about him, but there was nothing she could do from the other side of the globe.

"How bad was it?" Elsie asked.

Charles remained silent. Unbeknownst to most of Downton, Petty Carson had battled depression and alcoholism for over a year after James' death. Her recovery had not been easy on Charles or herself. Charles wondered if telling Elsie would be a betrayal of his mother's trust.

"You don't have to say," Elsie recanted her question.

"I hope we can talk about it someday, but I have to ask Mum first," Charles explained. "Sufficed to say, it was two years before I tried to leave again. In fact, I tried every two years or so after that. Robert always thought it was about money. I told him the wine cellar wasn't challenging enough; he gave me free rein and a bigger budget. I told him I wanted to pursue my wine studies; he gave me more time off… and a bigger budget! Robert made it impossible to leave without personally insulting him."

"So, every time you tried to leave, you received a guilt trip and a rise in pay?" Elsie asked incredulously.

"Without meaning to, I've become one of the highest paid butlers in England," Charles snorted at the absurdity.

"Talk about first world problems," Elsie commented wryly. She could certainly see how that would make it nearly impossible for Charles to walk out on the Family.

"I never expected it would be fifteen years before you returned," Charles reiterated.

"Nor did I." It hadn't been her plan to stay away for so long, but she'd turned down every chance to return to Yorkshire until two years ago. "I just kept following the opportunities; chasing... I'm not sure what." _Chasing or fleeing?_ she wondered to herself.

"What brought you back?"

"After my Da died, I decided it was time to come home," she revealed.

"For Becky and your Mum?"

"Mostly for them, but also for you." Elsie sighed and tilted her head so it fit neatly beneath his chin. "The way you helped when Da was sick… It reminded me of why I'd loved you. I realized that I'd never stopped."

"I didn't do anything special," Charles said, perplexed. Elsie had moved to Montreal where she was under contract. Unable to return home when her father fell ill, she'd reached out to her two best friends. By that point, her parents had sold the farm and moved to Blackpool for her father's health. Charles and Beryl took turns dropping by and checking on the family as Elsie's proxy.

"You visited twice a week for a month and then you emailed me one night," Elsie remembered. "I'll never forget. You wrote, 'I'm not a doctor, but I think you should come home.' If I hadn't listened to you, I wouldn't have been there when my family needed me most.".

Charles nodded and held her tightly. He remembered that terrible week before her father's death. Charles had promised to stay at St. Anne's hospital until Elsie could join them. Charles had been with Becky in the family room of the hospital when Elsie had finally arrived. She'd hugged Becky before rushing down the hall to her father's room.

"You were wonderful with Becky and it was a comfort for me to have you there," Elsie recalled. "You just sat with me for hours. Sometimes, we didn't even to speak. We didn't have to."

"I felt guilty and conflicted," Charles admitted. "I was almost glad your Dad was sick, because it had brought you back. I held out hope that he'd get better so I could tell you exactly how happy I was to see you."

"But he didn't get better," Elsie said sadly. "And you didn't tell me how you felt."

"Because what kind of creep makes a move on a woman at her father's funeral?"

Elsie smiled sadly to herself. "But we were together enough to prove the old attraction was still there. I felt it. I was sure you felt it, too."

"I did," he confirmed.

"I'd have stayed on after his funeral, but I had to finish my contract in Montreal. Before I returned to Canada, I promised Beryl I'd come help her next," Elsie recounted. "But it was as much for you as for her. I was ready to take a chance on us."

"As I had been ready for years, but another misunderstanding…"

"Cost us two more years," Elsie concluded. "Why does this keep happening to us?"

"Because I was too afraid to just talk directly to you," Charles blamed himself.

"Oh, Charlie," Elsie laughed. "You don't get to take all the credit for this. It takes two people to cock things up as badly as we have for as long as we have."

"Sometimes it takes three," Charles noted darkly.

"Beryl meant well, so I'll pardon her. No, this is on us. We both made assumptions about the other's feelings."

"What's worse, we acted on them," Charles agreed.

"Aye." Elsie sat up and twisted to face him again on the couch. She stared at him seriously and challenged, "So how do we avoid that in future?"

Startled by her intensity, Charles sputtered, "I- I suppose we do what we're doing… speak frankly with each other."

"Is that enough?" She wondered.

"It should be," Charles reasoned. "Especially now that we've told each other how we feel."

"Have we? I mean, we've said 'I love you', but…that doesn't even begin to cover how I feel."

Charles recognized the signs of Elsie overthinking a problem. "'I love you', is a pretty good start." He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Hopefully, we have years ahead to expound on the topic."

Elsie chuckled at his odd turn of phrase. She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. "But we have to promise to always be honest with each other. For real this time."

"Agreed," he nodded and returned her kiss more firmly. It was after two in the morning and they were exhausted and emotionally drained, but this kiss reinvigorated them both.

"Mmm," Elsie hummed contentedly.

"Are you feeling better about trusting me now?" Charles whispered seductively, his hand safely on her hip.

"I think I've realized that you weren't the only problem," Elsie confessed. "Maybe you didn't tell me how you felt, but no one forced me to stay away. Maybe I was afraid that there was nothing to come back for."

Charles nodded. He understood exactly how she felt. Deciding to be vulnerable is a difficult choice to make.

"I've forgiven you for avoiding me for two years, but can you forgive me for the years before that?" She asked, unafraid of the answer.

"I don't want to dwell on the past. We've both made mistakes, but we're here now. I'm happy to be grateful and leave it at that," Charles said comfortingly. "Besides, I think we've learned something tonight."

"What's that?"

"I don't think either of us ever left this relationship. Emotionally speaking," Charles offered. "Physically, we were pulled apart and kept apart, but in all the important ways..."

"...We never gave up on us."

"I like how we can finish each other's-"

"Sandwiches!" Elsie burst in enthusiastically.

Charles looked at her as though she were mad. Clearly, he did not catch the reference.

"Never mind," Elsie chuckled. "Sufficed to say, we agree."

"Good. I'm not sure I could talk anymore," Charles confessed, his voice indeed sounding hoarse.

"That's okay," Elsie flirted. Her hand moved from the side of his face to his chest. She pushed him back into the couch. "There are other ways to communicate."

Charles smiled wickedly just before she kissed him. His hand began to slide downward from her waist. Without words, Elsie managed to convey her approval.

TBC…

* * *

 **AN/ I'm not 100% happy with this conversation, but I had to just stop messing with it and publish. No more misunderstandings! No more angst! Yippie! Thank you for the reviews and for reading!**

 **Next up... rated 'M' chapter...**


	19. Part Nineteen M-rated Chapter

**AN/ Warning: Though I won't reclassify the entire story, the following chapter includes M rated material…eventually...**

* * *

'Present', Yew Tree Farm…

Elsie felt giddy and light-headed. _It's amazing how a few short hours can change everything,_ she thought happily. They were snogging on the couch the same as they had been earlier, but inwardly, they were in a wholly different place.

On one level her body participated enthusiastically in the physical make out session. On another, Elsie's mind sifted through that evening's conversation. She thought of the people who'd kept Charles tied to Yorkshire with their dependence upon him. She wanted to blame them for keeping the two of them apart. Yet, if she were being honest, maybe it was his fault for being so reliable. Maybe it was her fault for not telling him how much _she_ needed him.

 _Stop overthinking this,_ Elsie scolded herself. _The man you love, loves you and here you are, in his arms. Just enjoy this._

With that resolution, Elsie's mind was at peace. Blame didn't matter anymore. The past didn't matter. Even the future didn't concern her now. She trusted things would work out. She trusted in Them.

Elsie's concentration returned fully to the moment. She giggled as Charles nuzzled his nose behind her ear, kissing her neck in a spot he knew would elicit that very response. Elsie teased her fingers through his hair. Charles chuckled. Obviously, he wasn't the only one who remembered former preferences. His one hand roamed her backside, pulling her tight against him. His other hand had slipped up under her blouse. His warm fingertips gently caressed her silky skin.

The long-forgotten rush of love-fueled lust welled up inside her. She'd been with other men in the past two decades, but only when pressured by society into making an honest attempt at a serious relationship. Or when she grew bored with her masturbation routine. Though her partners had been attractive and, presumably, technically sound, Elsie found herself continually disappointed. Ultimately, she always returned to her autoerotic habits. Charles was the only man with whom the experience of sex had improved upon repeat encounters. Now, after years of dormancy Elsie was a molten river of desire.

"B- bedroom," she panted into his mouth, which had returned to hers.

"Mm?" He questioned wordlessly.

"We should mmmm," she moaned when he squeezed her bottom. "Move this into the bedroom."

"Beryl won't be home for hours," Charles teased.

"Beryl doesn't live here," Elsie laughed at his joke. In London, they'd only had sex on the couch when Beryl was out of town or at work.

Though his words resisted her suggestion, Charles sat up as if preparing to stand up. His eagerness thrilled Elsie, but she needed him to slow down.

"Give me two minutes head start," she requested. "I need to straighten the bedroom and…"

"We can leave the lights off," Charles offered playfully.

"Charlie…" she reproached him.

"Two whole minutes?" he pouted.

"Ninety seconds," she negotiated.

"Starting…now!" Charles gave her a quick kiss and released her.

Rolling her eyes, Elsie stood up and sauntered casually to the hallway that led to her bedroom. She didn't need to tidy up the space or change the sheets. She simply wanted a little time to prepare. A quick stop in the bathroom provided her with condoms and lubricant. She did not anticipate needing the latter, but it was best to be prepared. Once in the bedroom, Elsie slipped out of her skirt, blouse, and less than flattering knickers and into something more alluring. She turned off the overhead light, leaving just the low bedside lamp to illuminate the room. Elsie turned down the bed and slipped between the cool cotton sheets. The entire process had taken less than thirty seconds. Elsie wished she hadn't requested so much time. She could feel fatigue setting in. She knew she'd wake up again once Charles joined her, but she needed him to join her soon.

Back in the living room, Charles counted under his breath. He knew that her bedroom would already be perfectly neat. He knew she just needed time to do whatever it was women feel they need to do before sex. He was willing to wait a few more minutes if it meant she was comfortable. Charles' own preparations consisted of taking off his shoes and trousers and laying the trousers over the back of the couch. He'd have removed his socks and sleeves as well, but the stone floor was cold and he was already at seventy-five seconds. The last fifteen seconds felt like an eternity.

… _Eighty-nine, ninety!_

Charles took a deep, calming breath before heading down the hallway. A soft light shone from her half-opened bedroom door. He became unreasonably nervous as he approached. He ought to announce himself somehow, in case she wasn't fully prepared. Charles coughed slightly, hoping that would prove to be sufficient. At the last moment, he also knocked on the door as he pushed it slowly open.

Elsie lay beguilingly on the bed. Her hair was down but neatly arranged on her pillow. Her bare legs were drawn up slightly, in a coquettish position. Elsie was smiling sweetly, and she was fast asleep.

"Els?" Charles asked softly. He didn't try too hard to wake her. Though he was dejected by this turn of events, he couldn't be upset with her. She'd been working fourteen-hour days, seven days a week for almost two months. It was almost three in the morning. It was little wonder that she had fallen asleep almost the second her head met the pillow. Charles himself felt weary and he had nowhere near her hectic schedule.

 _Better before than during,_ Charles consoled himself wryly. His present dilemma was whether he should just climb into bed with her now, or sleep in the spare room. As tempted as he was to join her in her own bed, Charles felt it bordered on creepy and decided to retreat to the guest room. He decided he should leave her a note, so she knew where to find him when she did wake. His note would make it clear that she was free to wake him if she wanted to. Then, he remembered seeing something in her kitchen that gave him an idea.

-00-

Elsie's eyes fluttered open. She was still smiling, having dreamed the most pleasant dreams. She'd dreamt of walking along the Seine with Charles on a quiet, midwinter morning. Then, they'd been on a beach in Valencia in the warm Mediterranean sun. The last part of the dream found two of them in a moonlit bedroom, naked and wrapped in silken sheets.

 _This is the longest ninety seconds ever,_ she thought groggily to herself. She glanced blearily at the clock and sat bolt upright when the digits came into focus. It was five twenty-seven!

She was about to call out for Charles when she saw the note he'd left. It was sitting next to a little silver bell she'd brought home from the restaurant and it read:

 _'Ring for Butler-  
At any hour; day or night!'_

Laughing to herself Elsie made to pick up the bell, but then stopped. She jumped out of bed and checked herself in the vanity mirror. Her eyes looked swollen and one side of her face was covered with crease marks from the pillow. _Too many late nights,_ she scolded herself. She quickly applied a little eye cream and lip gloss. _Better,_ she approved. It helped that she was genuinely refreshed from her nap. Feeling more confident in her appearance, Elsie climbed back into bed and rang the bell.

She listened for any sound coming from the rest of the house. She wasn't sure if he'd taken the guest bed or stayed on the couch. She rang the bell again, louder than before. This time, there was a response. She heard a snort, a thump, and a curse. After a few seconds, Charles presented himself at her doorway. He wore only his shorts, a short-sleeved undershirt, and his socks. He had a severe case of bedhead and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.

"You rang?" He leaned against the doorjamb, nonchalantly crossing his arms. It took all his self-control to resist running across the room and jumping right into bed. He waited to be invited.

"It's sounded as though you had trouble waking up just now," Elsie teased as her eyes roamed his body. He saw this and sucked in his stomach slightly.

"Let's just say I woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Charles answered coyly.

"I'd say you woke up in the wrong bed."

"Whatever shall we do about that?" He wondered comically. He took an exploratory step into the room.

"Socks?" Elsie questioned.

"The floor is cold," Charles pouted.

"But my bed isn't." She pulled back the duvet welcomingly.

Charles stumbled eagerly across the room, kicking off his socks as he neared the bed. Once there he crawled into her arms with a huge smile. Elsie greeted him with an open-mouthed kiss. She draped a leg over him as she pulled the covers back up over the both of them. He felt instantly enveloped in the warmth of intimacy.

"Did you have a nice rest?" He asked in a seductive whisper.

"I did," Elsie sighed. "But why didn't you wake me?"

"I did try, though not very aggressively. Clearly, you needed to recharge," Charles reasoned understandingly. "Truth be told, I think I've benefited from the nap as well."

"I'll be the judge of that." She used her legs to draw him closer. He settled over her and she could feel the firm reality of his lust for her. Elsie tugged at his undershirt until he took the hint and smoothly removed it over his head. While his arms were raised, her finger drew a squiggly line from his bicep, by his armpit, across his chest to his small patch of chest hair. There was tenderness in the caresses of her hands, but her legs gripped him possessively. He felt desired and claimed by this glorious woman. He shivered.

Charles threw his shirt into the corner of the room and brought his hands back to her lithe body. He felt the soft cotton and was confused. It felt as though she were wearing an old t-shirt. He hadn't expected a sexy negligée, neither had he expected this. He pushed back and looked down at her quizzically.

"What?" She stammered at the abrupt absence of his lips on hers.

"Are you wearing… a t-shirt?" Charles questioned.

"Not just any t-shirt."

Charles raised himself up further to see the writing on the shirt. He recognized it immediately as the logo for a common liquor. It really was the last thing he thought someone as classy as Elsie would have in her wardrobe, even for sleeping in.

"Wait, is that my Jägermeister shirt?" He laughed. "I thought I lost that old thing."

"You didn't lose it," Elsie confessed. "I stole it. Out of your laundry before you left. It was an impulse of the moment. I saw it and… I grabbed it." She blushed to tell him after all this time.

"It was just a give away from my first bar job," Charles remembered. "What a dump that place was! Why would you want it?"

"Because it was yours," she said simply. "The day before you left, I realized how silly I was being and I tried to return it. But you'd already packed, so I kept it."

"I looks as though you've worn it a lot," he commented on the worn-out seams and stretched-out neckline.

"Initially, yes. I wore it for most of the year after you left, but now I save it for special occasions," Elsie informed him. "Like tonight."

"Well, seeing as you stole it…." Charles teased. "I'm afraid I must insist that you return it."

"Immediately?" Elsie asked innocently.

"Immediately," Charles confirmed authoritatively.

"'Possession is nine tenths of the law'," she quoted. "It's as much mine as it is yours."

"Are you refusing to return it?"

Elsie rolled them both over until she was astride him. "If you want it, you're going to have to take it," she challenged as she crossed her arms stubbornly. Charles might have been intimidated but for her seductive smile. He began to slowly stroke her now exposed legs.

"You'd do well to cooperate, Miss," he advised. "Or there might be consequences."

"You don't scare me," Elsie grinned mischievously as she began to move her hips in time with his gently rubbing hands.

"If you won't play fair, neither shall I," Charles warned roguishly. They were both enjoying their little play of seduction. His hands moved beneath the stag emblazoned t-shirt and tickled at her bare skin. Elsie giggled and uncrossed her arms to slap playfully at his chest. Charles took the opportunity to slide the shirt quickly over her head. Laughing at her futile and insincere protestations, Charles tossed the shirt into the corner with his own.

Elsie no longer crossed her arms protectively, but sat up defiantly straight, her chest rising and falling with every breath. "Are you proud of yourself, Mr. Carson? You stole the shirt off a poor, helpless woman's back."

"You are many things, my love, but helpless is not one of them." Charles sat up so he could reach her better. He kissed her gently, cupping her breasts as he did so. "However, don't think I'm done with you, little miss thief."

"Don't you have what you wanted?" Elsie asked temptingly. She continued grinding playfully against him. Her nipples tickled against his bare chest, making her breath catch in her throat.

"It's not about what I want," Charles claimed pompously. "This is about justice."

"Justice?"

"In light of your crime, in addition to the purloined property, I think there is restitution owing." His fingers played with the hem of her plain, cotton knickers. "I think I'm going to have to take these as well."

"It's a fair cop," Elsie laughed. "Well played, Mr. Carson."

As he pulled her knickers down, he leaned back. Elsie leaned forward and lay full atop him. Her legs came together to facilitate the removal process. As soon as the small bundle of white cotton cleared her feet, Elsie once more straddled him.

"Now, what are we to do about you?" She asked seductively. "You're slightly overdressed."

His thin shorts did little to hide his eager state, but their removal was essential to her aim; and his.

"I do hate not being properly dressed for the occasion," Charles smiled. He wriggled beneath her, slipping his shorts down and off. Elsie sat on his upper thighs with his growing erection just in front of her. "Now I feel under dressed."

"I have just the thing for you," Elsie promised. She raised up slightly and leaned towards the bedside table where the condoms lay. She grabbed an individually wrapped condom and sat back. In the process, she'd brushed maddeningly against him. Charles groaned when he felt her wiry yet soft bush and a hint of her wetness pass over his tip.

Elsie tried to concentrate as she opened the small package. Her desire pulsed painfully between her legs. Her hands shook with excitement as she slid the latex sheath over his cock. Charles' eyes closed at the delightful compression, knowing it was just a fraction of the pleasurable pressure to follow. Her hand lingered around him and squeezed gently. Charles moaned louder and sat up again to kiss her hungrily. His hands gripped her hips with barely restrained urgency. As he drew her hips forward, Elsie braced herself with her hands on his broad shoulders. They rubbed and teased each other for a few more tantalizing moments before letting their desire consume them entirely.

Elsie lowered herself around him, possessing him completely for the first time in twenty years. The sensation was uncomfortable yet familiar. Having him pinned beneath her, most of the work fell to Elsie in the beginning. Charles aided her movements with his strong hands, lifting her and pulling her back to him. Soon, her thighs and quad muscles burned from their unaccustomed exertion. Sensing her slowing, Charles flipped them over so that he was above her as they lay crosswise on the mattress. He took advantage of the greater range of motion and soon the bed rocked beneath them. She could feel the mattress slipping on the box spring and held onto him more tightly. The sheets had fallen back and gathered at the foot of the bed. Their nakedness lay exposed to the cool air of the bedroom but neither noticed the autumn chill. Charles felt surrounded by the heat emanating from deep within her. Elsie was covered by his body which hotly radiated warmth all around her. Inside Elsie, the first tremors of orgasm began to quiver.

 _This!_ Her mind sang. This is what no other man could give her. Danger wrapped in safety. Painful ecstasy. An independent belonging. They were two halves brought together to make something more than one. Her cries of joy mingled with his, now and then muffled by their entangled tongues.

No thoughts could form in Charles' mind. He existed in the realm of instinct and muscle memory. His body knew exactly what to do without consulting his brain. His body remembered hers. It felt her tremble and knew to slow his motions to heighten her pleasure. He was vaguely aware of her moans of encouragement, but he did not need any more incentive. The moment her body began to relax around him, his effort and ferocity redoubled until he sensed her once more approaching climax. They fell into an undulating cycle between gentle lovemaking and manic fucking. She rode high. He lunged deeply. They lay side by side. They moved about, twisting the sheets in their feet. Elsie's body reverberated, whether with unconnected spasms or one extended orgasm she could not say. Nor did she care. The very air surrounding them felt electrified by the fusion of their passion. Finally, sensing that she'd gained repeated satisfaction, Charles' body achieved its own release. With his final effort, Charles brought Elsie to one last, shuddering climax.

Sweating, panting, and laughing the joyous couple crashed into a heap of contentment. They lay twisted together as their heart rates returned to normal. Charles quickly became aware of the cold air on his exposed ass and pulled the covers up over them. Elsie noticed how far askew the mattress had become and how far over the edge of the box spring they lay.

"You've already fallen out of one bed today," Elsie joked as she guided them more towards the center of the bed.

"Goodness," Charles chuckled. "Let me fix that."

He rolled out of the bed quickly and straitened the mattress. Rather than jump back into bed, Charles picked up his shorts from the floor with a blush. "I'll be right back," he promised.

Elsie smiled at his retreating, bare bum but did not ask for any explanation. She knew he'd gone to the bathroom to slip out of the condom and slip into his shorts. Charles had not been comfortable with his nakedness twenty years ago and, apparently, his attitude had not changed. Elsie, on the other hand, had always enjoyed being in her natural state. She closed her eyes and waited patiently for him to return.

TBC…

* * *

 **AN/ Sorry for the long wait, but I expanded this chapter and it's been a while since I've written 'M' material. Ultimately, I think they had fun, which is what matters. Next chapter… pillow talk; some silly, some serious.**


	20. Part Twenty

Present (Late September 2016), Yew Tree Farm…

Elsie heard his footsteps returning from the bathroom.

"Asleep again?" Charles asked with comic exasperation.

"Just resting," Elsie opened her eyes and smiled. "You did tire me out, Mr. Carson."

"You're welcome," he answered proudly. He tucked in one corner of the sheets and climbed back into bed. Elsie noticed that he was wearing his shorts again. She made a mental note to break him of that annoying habit as she cuddled into his arms. His cheek rested against her forehead as her head rested on his shoulder. Elsie hummed contentedly and kissed his chest.

"I wouldn't presume to speak for you, Miss Hughes," Charles beamed. Elsie smiled at his lofty tone. "But I do believe we've still got it!"

She nodded and giggled. "Thank goodness," she sighed under her breath.

"What's that?" Charles wondered. "Did you doubt we would?"

"We are older, after all," she shrugged.

"I firmly believe things improve with age," he half joked.

"To a point," Elsie argued gently.

"Well, I never worried how this would go," Charles confessed. His hand stroked her bare back comfortingly. "Because of how good it was back then."

"Exactly, as good as we were together, weren't you concerned that maybe you remembered things as more amazing than they really were?" She wondered. "Nostalgia and imagination can do that."

"My imagination isn't that vivid," came his honest reply. "But now that you mention it…It's reasonable to have been worried. Part of the thrill in London came from the possibility that every time we were together might be the last."

"But this was as good as we've ever been," Elsie noted, giving him a little squeeze.

"It was better," he declared confidently. "Because I love you."

"Didn't you before?" She asked teasingly.

"But now I can tell you." He kissed her forehead lovingly. "And the thrill isn't from the fear that this might be our last time together, but the certainty that it isn't."

"I was silly to worry," Elsie admitted with some embarrassment.

"It wasn't silly of you," Charles assured her. "You were nervous because you're intelligent. Only stupid people are overconfident. You think things through. You anticipate difficulties, so you can account for them."

"Leave nothing to chance?" She quoted Charlie's favorite phrase back to him.

"Wise words," Charles laughed.

Elsie laughed with him. "I remember the first time I heard you say them."

"The first time of many, no doubt."

"Mmhm," Elsie confirmed with a smile. "I knew you were different from other men the day I met you."

"Because I speak in clichés?"

"No. Because you mean them."

-00-

 _Downton Abbey, 1993_

 _"Hurry up, Elsie!" A girl Elsie thought might be named Fiona called out as she hurried down the stairs to the servant's hall. Elsie had only arrived at Downton that morning and hadn't formally met anyone. She had been surprised to find that she was in a room by herself. Elsie wasn't sure how she felt about that, never having had a room to herself. She was in a strange place and she was alone. It was unsettling.  
_

 _Elsie left her half unpacked suitcase and followed. She checked her appearance quickly in the mirror. From the stories she'd heard about Old Mr. Carson, the butler at Downton Abbey had exacting standards. Some of the returning staff swore that his son was just as strict. Elsie was eager to make a good first impression._

 _The staff sat around the long table chatting easily. Many were already known to each other from previous summers at Downton. Many were local youth familiar with the estate. Elsie knew no one and felt awkward sitting between Fiona and another girl who were gossiping about a boy in the village. She hoped everyone here wouldn't be as silly as these two. A short girl with red hair and a round, friendly face stood by the kitchen door with her arms crossed. She watched the group with a mixture of contempt and bemusement. When she looked Elsie's way, Elsie smiled. The girl smiled back and rolled her eyes as if to say, I hate this sort of thing. Elsie smiled bigger and nodded._

 _All conversation stopped abruptly as two tall men entered the room followed by Mrs. Young, the housekeeper whom Elsie had already met. The men were the infamous Carsons, Elsie assumed. The father was slightly shorter than the son, but both men were impressively imposing in their dark livery. Elsie was the first to stand, but, eventually, the others remembered that they were expected to stand whenever the butler entered the servant's hall. Mr. Carson waited patiently for them all to rise and then waved for them to sit back down. He didn't look too pleased with his reception. Elsie hoped he wasn't as much of a tyrant as he looked in that moment. Elsie began to worry that she'd made the wrong decision coming to Downton. She'd considered other estates looking for help catering events, many closer to home, but the housekeeper at her last job had recommended Downton. Mrs. Rainey worked at Downton before she married and moved to Argyll. Knowing of Elsie's aspirations in hospitality, Mrs. Rainey thought Elsie would find many opportunities to learn and grow in an environment such as Downton. When Mrs. Rainey showed Elsie a photo of the Abbey, Elsie was convinced. She imagined the people who staged events in such a grand setting would be interesting to work with._

 _After the staff was reseated, Mr. Carson's dark façade broke slightly. He smiled paternally at the young people before him._

 _"Welcome to Downton Abbey. I am Mr. Carson, the butler," he began._

 _Smiles were exchanged around the table by returning staff. They'd all heard this speech before, verbatim. Elsie only half listened as the butler waxed poetic about the pedigree of the house, the caliber of clientele, and the loftiness of expectations. None of the information was particularly interesting or necessary. All the rules were enumerated in her employment packet and Elsie did not need a pep talk to prompt her to her best work. She let her eyes wander over the staff. Most of the staff were locals who had grown up in the shadow of Downton Abbey. She was the outsider here. Most of the staff looked friendly enough. They all exuded a general sense of confidence that bordered on smug. Elsie could already tell this was a well-run household. Her sense of doubt began to fade._

 _When Mr. Carson had completed his monologue, Mrs. Young stepped up to explain how uniforms would be distributed. As the staff was being dismissed to fetch their livery from the laundry, Elsie heard her own name spoken in a warm, yet authoritative voice._

 _"Miss Hughes?"_

 _She turned to face the younger Carson. He stood more closely to her than she'd expected. She had not heard his step approach. He was not uncomfortably close, but she was obliged to crane her neck to look up at him._

 _"Mr. Carson," she replied._

 _This elicited a wry smirk. "My father is Mr. Carson. In this house, I'm simply known as Charles."_

 _"Ah, yes, so Mr. Carson said," Elsie stammered. "I'd already forgotten."_

 _"So you_ were _listening? I did wonder as you seemed to be looking everywhere except the head of the table." The reprimand was gentle but pointed._

 _"Is that why I'm being called out?" Elsie asked incredulously._

 _"Of course not," he chuckled softly. "And you aren't being 'called out'. All the local staff have already had their orientation interviews. I thought we could handle yours while the uniform line is unwieldy."_

 _"Orientation interview?"_

 _"We like to know what people expect out of the season," Charles explained. "It helps us keep the staff happy and engaged."_

 _"Oh," Elsie answered sheepishly. She felt silly for falsely accusing him of scolding her. Thankfully, he didn't seem upset._

 _"Is now a good time?" Charles asked._

 _"Um, sure," Elsie said awkwardly. She couldn't fathom why she'd suddenly become stupid._

 _"The butler's pantry should be free," he gestured down the hallway. She nodded and walked towards the open doorway he'd indicated. "Would you care for tea?"_

 _Still feeling off her game, Elsie simply shrugged before remembering herself. "Yes, please."_

 _"Just have a seat at the table while I fetch a tray," he instructed._

 _Elsie entered the butler's pantry and took the seat nearest the door. Elsie quickly assessed the room. A large set of doors dominated the left wall. Elsie had no idea what those doors might conceal. The room seemed dark despite the three lamps and several wall fixtures lighting the space. The wall sconces looked as though they might once have held gas lights. The main features on the desk were an open ledger and a calendar. Overall, Elsie felt a sense of orderly nostalgia in this place. Clearly these walls had witnessed decades, scores, even centuries of efficiency._

 _Elsie was only left to her silent musings for a few moments, but that's all the time it took for her to calm herself and regain her composure. She felt her usual self when Charles joined her, carrying a tidy tea tray. He set it on the table and then turned to the large desk to retrieve a file folder and a pen._

 _"Shall I pour?" She offered. It renewed her confidence to take the initiative._

 _"Thank you. Two sugars, please," he accepted graciously. While she poured he opened the folder. "I see Mrs. Rainey has sent you to us."_

 _"Yes, I worked for her last summer," Elsie confirmed. "And over the winter holidays."_

 _"I trust she's doing well?" Charles inquired amicably. "It was quite a loss to us when she and Mr. Rainey decided to open a boutique hotel in Scotland."_

 _"Killean Manor is not as grand as Downton Abbey, but they've been a welcome addition to our little community," Elsie told him._

 _"Any estate, grand or modest, has a responsibility to local economy. That's why we tend to hire our employees from the village," Charles told her conversationally. "But a protégé from Mrs. Rainey warrants an exception."_

 _"I wouldn't call myself a protégé," Elsie said humbly._

 _"Her words, not mine," Charles pointed to something in the file. Elsie assumed it to be Mrs. Rainey's letter of reference. He took a sip of tea and read more of her file. "She notes that you're interested in a career in hospitality."_

 _"Anything that involves logistics and planning," Elsie clarified. "Hotels and restaurants seem the natural fit."_

 _Charles raised his eyebrows. Elsie worried that she'd said something wrong. "We don't have many staff who aspire to remain in the industry beyond uni."_

 _"Is that good?" She bit her lip nervously._

 _"It's refreshing," he admitted. "Most are locals who just want a solid summer job."_

 _"Mrs. Rainey told me Downton Abbey was the most sought after posting in the East Riding." It never hurts to feed a man's ego, Elsie reasoned._

 _"Our reputation is that we work people hard and we pay them well. Better to over pay than to have excessive turnover."_

 _"It makes sense to invest in staff retention," Elsie observed. "In a short season like Downton's, you would lose time and money training replacements. I assume that's why you have the contract bonus."_

 _"That was my idea," Charles smiled proudly. Elsie noticed how much younger he looked when he smiled. "We used to lose half our staff in the final month of the season. Adding a bonus for anyone who completed the full season put paid to that."_

 _"I think I could learn a lot here," Elsie said, genuinely at ease for the first time since arriving at Downton._

 _"I hope you're a quick learner, because we're dropping you in the middle of it. You'll be assisting Mrs. Young to start," Charles said, making a notation in the file. "Nothing happens in this house without her knowing. It will give you a good vantage point from which to assess all aspects of the operation."_

 _Elsie nodded happily. This was exactly the experience she was hoping for._

 _"Feel free to tell Mrs. Young or myself if we're asking too much. My father likes to say, 'We prosper from the bottom up, but we fail from the top down.'"_

 _"What does that mean exactly?" Elsie had to ask._

 _"It means that it's the place of management to give the staff a plan that can succeed," Charles explained._

 _Elsie smiled and nodded as if his answer had clarified things. "I believe success is all in the planning."_

 _"Just so!" Charles approved. "Leave nothing to chance."_

 _Elsie heard a little snort out in the hallway. She could see that Charles had heard it too._

 _He raised his voice slightly and said, "I should warn you to be careful choosing your friends here. Some people are bad influences."_

 _Playing along, Elsie responded, "Is there anyone in particular I should avoid?" She had no idea who was outside the room, but she suspected Charles knew._

 _"There's a loud redhead who works in the kitchens. Steer clear of her."_

 _"Damn and blast you, Charlie Carson!" The redheaded girl Elsie had noticed in the servant's hall exclaimed as she entered the room carrying a tea tray. "I was only bringing you a fresh pot of tea. See if I ever do anything nice for you again. "_

 _"I heard you arrive with that tray two minutes ago," Charles chastised with a smile. "You'll never work upstairs if you don't learn to carry a tray properly, Beryl."_

 _"I'm too short and dumpy to work upstairs," Beryl bit back without resentment. "Only beautiful people are allowed to interact with the public."_

 _Ignoring her sarcastic words, Charles consulted his watch and stood. "Speaking of which, I have to dash to a meeting upstairs with Her Ladyship. Beryl, why don't you have a seat and join Elsie. You'll learn much more speaking directly to her than listening at doorways."_

 _Beryl glared at Charles as he picked up the tray he'd brought in earlier. Elsie still held her cup and saucer, so he only removed his own setting and the cooling tea pot. He held the tray on one palm and gestured with the other hand for Beryl to set down her own tray and take his seat. She did so and did not see Charles deftly steal a chocolate biscuit from her tray in the split second her back was turned to him. Elsie did see and raised her eyebrows to let him know he'd been caught._

 _"Ladies," Charles dismissed himself and slid smoothly out of the room before Elsie could call him out._

 _Beryl settled into the vacated chair and glanced at the tray. "Stole one, did he?"_

 _Elsie smiled and nodded._

 _"You have to watch that one around the sweets," Beryl chuckled. She spoke with the pride of a mother who thinks even the worst faults of her child are adorable. Elsie sensed a special friendship between this kitchen maid and the under butler. She wondered if she should ask about their relationship, but the question must have been written on her face. "Oh, there's nothing between Charlie and me, if that's what you're thinking."_

 _"You seem to be the only one allowed to tease him," Elsie observed._

 _"I tease everyone," Beryl shrugged. "And I've known himself since he were too small to swing a cricket bat. Like a brother to me he is."_

 _Elsie suddenly realized they'd not been formally introduced. "I'm Elsie Hughes, by the way."_

 _"Oh, I knew that. I know most of what happens around here. I'm Beryl, Beryl Patmore." They shook hands._

 _"This isn't your first season at Downton, I take it."_

 _"This is my seventh season!" Beryl said proudly. "I'm second sous chef this year."_

 _"You like working here?" Elsie questioned._

 _"Beats real work," Beryl teased before answering more seriously. "Mr. Carson, Mrs. Young, and Charlie are tough, but if you work hard, you'll do well."_

 _"Seems fair."_

 _"Aye, that's the key word, fair," Beryl agreed. "They're fair obsessed with being fair. Take it a little too far if you ask me."_

 _"How's that?"_

 _"To avoid any appearance of favoritism, poor Charlie can't date anyone associated with the estate." Beryl shook her head sympathetically. "It's hard enough for him to be in charge of folks he's grown up with, but to take that away…"_

 _"That's why you tease him?" Elsie realized._

 _"So he'll feel more like one of the staff," Beryl confessed._

 _"And feel a little less lonely," Elsie further surmised.  
_

 _"Aye, you're sharper than most here," Beryl smiled. "Not that it's a very high bar."_

 _The two young ladies laughed and enjoyed their tea. Elsie felt a warm glow in her chest that had nothing to do with the warm Earl Grey. She'd made her first friend at Downton. As she nibbled on a biscuit, she smiled to think maybe she'd made two friends today. Little did she realize she'd met the two most important friends of her life._

-00-

"Elsie?"

His voice called her back to the present. "Hmm?"

"Where did you wander off to?"

"Just remembering the first time I heard you say, 'Leave nothing to chance.'" She turned her neck so she could see his face. "What were you saying?"

"I was only thinking out loud," he shrugged.

"I'm sorry I wasn't listening," she apologized. "Tell me again."

She turned over completely, placed her elbow on his chest and propped her chin prettily on her palm like a bored cherub in a baroque painting. Charles smiled fondly up at her.

"You have my undivided attention, love," she promised.

TBC…

* * *

 **AN/ Sorry for the delay. I took a detour to the distant past. Next chapter will be the promised pillow talk.**


	21. Part Twenty-one

**AN/ Sorry for the delay. I'll be posting 3 short chapters over the next 3 days.**

 **To recap, they're laying in bed after sleeping together for the first time in 20 years!**

* * *

"I was just saying we're doing this in the wrong order," Charles mused.

"There's a correct order?" Elsie joked.

"Keep in mind, I've had six weeks to thoroughly consider our options going forward," he warned.

"I would expect nothing less from you than a meticulous study of our future," Elsie assured him.

Her response encouraged Charles. "As I've said, we've already deviated from my predicted path."

"Oh?"

"I thought we might have a few steps before we were comfortable renewing our physical relationship. Not that I'm complaining."

"I should hope not," she admonished with a smirk. "What steps did we skip?"

"A proper first date, for one," he pouted. "Though, I suppose sleeping together doesn't preclude a first date. It's just a little anticlimactic."

"So to speak," she teased. Charles rolled his eyes at her joke.

"And there's telling our friends," he continued. "Officially."

"You mean updating our relationship status?" She asked. "I can do that right now. Just hand me my phone."

"I thought it might be more personal than that," Charles frowned.

"Beryl already knows," Elsie reminded him. "But we swore her to secrecy."

"Yes, and Robert suspects."

"If we just confirm things with Robert and remove the gag order on Beryl, the whole village will know within the hour," Elsie laughed. "With friends like ours, who needs social media?"

Charles agreed with a nod and a smile. "I must confess, I've told Mum," he told her cautiously. "I didn't mean to, but she asked why I was in such a chipper mood and… I can't lie to my own mother."

"That's alright," Elsie soothed. "I've told my Mam too. Good news should be shared."

"Did you tell Becky?"

"No. I want to do that face to face," Elsie admitted with a worried scowl. "I've never talked to her about any boyfriends."

"Ever?"

"She's always been very protective of me. It's hard to predict what might set her off. None of my little flings warranted the risk," Elsie shrugged. "I honestly don't know what she'll think or how she'll react."

"Do you want me to be there?" Charles offered.

Elsie nodded. "Maybe not in the room, but close by. It should help that she likes you."

"I am a very likeable guy," Charles claimed smugly.

Elsie slapped his chest playfully. "You mentioned a first date. Did you have something special in mind?"

"Now, I know you're an empowered and independent woman…"

"You wouldn't want me any other way," she interjected.

"And I'm an old-fashioned gentleman."

"And I wouldn't want you any other way."

"So, I'm asking that you let me pay for the first date," he requested. "We can alternate or go Dutch hereafter, but I need to pay homage to tradition at least this once."

Elsie sighed. She was justly proud of her independence, but she understood his need to do things properly. If she thought it was a power play or somehow about control, she'd absolutely refuse to let him treat her. But it wasn't about that for Charles. It was simply how things were done in his eyes. The very fact that he'd asked her for permission to pay illustrated how well he knew her and much he respected Elsie and her accomplishments.

"Well, I suppose if it's just the first date…"

"And birthdays, Valentine's, anniversaries, and other special occasions!" He added quickly. He smiled charmingly and bobbed his eyebrows at her until she laughed.

"Fine, special occasions to be negotiated," she acquiesced. "Now, tell me about our first date."

"I have a whole day planned."

"When am I going to have a full day off?" She wondered. But he'd thought of that.

"We'd go on a Monday, assuming you'll keep the Rose and Thistle closed on Mondays," he began with a wistful look in his eyes. "You'd have worked late the night before, so I'd let you sleep in, picking you up at half ten. In my car you would find a hazelnut latte and pain au chocolat."

"You'd let me eat a flaky pastry in your car!" Elsie exclaimed. She knew this was quite a concession from the fastidious butler.

"Better than flaky _and_ greasy."

"No sausage roll then?"

"Not on the first date," Charles said seriously. Elsie laughed. Charles cracked a smile.

"And where are we doing on this balmy morning?" She asked playfully.

"When was the last time you visited the North Moors?"

"I think you know the answer to that better than I do," Elsie answered.

"We went to Rosedale and Whitby Abbeys your last summer season at Downton," Charles supplied.

"Did we?" Elsie paused to consider. "You planned the staff outings. I just piled in the van and climbed out when it stopped."

"I'm glad I put such thoughtful care into the planning," Charles tried to hide his disappointment.

"And it was appreciated, love," she assured him. "But it didn't matter where we went. It was enough for us all to be together and leave the work behind for a day."

"That was the idea; to get away from the estate on a slow day."

"I do remember a trip to Scarborough," Elsie reminisced. "Eating ice cream and paddling in the sea. You thought you were going to fall."

"So you held my hand to steady me. I remember," Charles beamed. "Which is why our first date ends with dinner in Scarborough after our day of rambling in the countryside. There's a little bistro where no one will recognize us."

"I heartily approve of a little bistro, but the moors and the beach at this time of year?"

"I'll have blankets in the car and a thermos of warm mulled wine. I'll keep you warm." He demonstrated by pulling her up to lay more fully on top of him. He pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and wrapped his bare arms around her naked body. Elsie fit easily on his broad torso. She let her arms fall either side of him and lay her head contentedly on his chest.

"That sounds like a wonderful first date," she sighed dreamily. "I hope it's still on offer. Or have I lost the chance by succumbing so easily to your charms?"

"Name the day."

"How about today?"

"Honestly?"

"We'd already planned on brunch," Elsie reminded him. "I'll just tell Beryl I'm taking the whole day off. It will be my last Sunday off for a while."

"It's a date!" Charles enthused. He started to sit up, but Elsie resisted.

"Where are you going? My perfect date starts with a lie in."

"And you shall have your lie in," Charles promised. "I'll be back to pick you up at ten thirty."

"I want to have a lie in _with you,_ " Elsie insisted, hugging her arms around his neck.

"But there are things I have to do; preparations," Charles informed her. "I hate to alter a plan."

"I know, love, but, as you mentioned, we've already deviated from the original plan," she reasoned. "With wonderful results, I might say. Would it hurt to change a little more?"

"What did you have in mind?" He asked cautiously. His mind already raced with all the odds and ends he would need to pull together in the next few hours.

"May I trade my promised coffee and pain au chocolat for more cuddling time?"

"Hmm," Charles considered her offer. "That might be arranged, but I did have other little surprises planned along the way."

"You could save those surprises for another date," Elsie suggested. "You don't want to spoil me."

"Yes, I do," was his earnest reply.

She kissed his chin approvingly. "Still, if you stay with me, I promise to make the extra time worth your while."

She slid up his torso until they were eye to twinkling eye. She tickled his lower lip with her thumb as she awaited his response.

"You drive a hard bargain," he acquiesced before kissing her forcefully. He turned so that she lay beside him. They faced each other in the tangle of sheets.

"Speaking of hard…" she teased. Elsie threw a leg over his hip and pulled him closer her.

"I need a little more recovery time, love," Charles admitted with a blush. He kissed her lips and then her neck, just below her ear. "But there are things we can do in the meanwhile…"

"What did you have in mind?" Elsie flirted. Her hand slid under the elastic waistband of his shorts and she squeezed his bare cheek.

"You know I don't like to say," he responded as his face reddened.

"Still?" Elsie was genuinely surprised. "You still can't talk about it?"

"The euphemisms are either silly or vulgar," he asserted. "I'll try if you like, but…"

"No!" Elsie stopped him with a laugh. "I remember asking you to talk dirty to me before. You ended up muttering some nonsense about a Georgia O'Keefe painting."

"To which you compared favorably," he reminded her.

"Yes, but only because you can't touch or taste a painting," Elsie teased. "Or, you can, but the security guards will tackle you."

Charles smiled and marveled at her. Elsie had the ability to sooth his slightest anxiety. "You're still as beautiful as any work of art," he flattered. His hands caressed her exposed backside.

"Now, I'm more like a Rubens," she said self-deprecatingly when his hand cupped her ass.

"You're not," Charles objected. "But I wouldn't care if you were."

She started to argue, but his look of sincere admiration stopped her. "Just remember you said that when I order two desserts tonight," she teased instead.

"You may have as many desserts as you wish," Charles promised. "In fact, you may order nothing but dessert if that's what you want."

"This date just gets better and better," Elsie approved. "I can hardly wait."

"But wait, you must," he said in a low, seductive voice. "However shall we fill the time?"

"You're the planner," she matched his tone. "I'm entirely in your hands."

Charles suckled her earlobe as he rolled her onto her back. His lips lowered to her neck.

TBC...

* * *

 **AN/ The next chapter is pure Mature Content. The narrative part of our story will resume in Chapter 23.**


	22. Part Twenty-two M-rated Content

**'M-rated interlude'**

 **I'm not going to change the rating for the entire story, but you should skip this if you are not comfortable with Mature Content. Next update will be tomorrow.**

 **Rated M for Language and Sexual Content...  
**

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He kissed her shoulder… the delicate hollow above her clavicle...

Her body burned with anticipation as he descended downward. All joking was now forgotten.

The top of her breast… Her nipple…

His breath caught in his chest and his heart pounded. He felt mad with the desire to please her.

her bellybutton … her hip…

She moaned as his fingers traced up the inside of her thigh towards his single-minded goal. She bent a knee, drawing her foot up his back, welcoming him. His mouth and hand reached their destination at the same time. She cried out with appreciation. Charles was thrilled and terrified as his tongue and fingers explored her. He wanted to tell Elsie that she was the only woman he'd ever pleasured this way. To a man like Charles, this was too intimate an act for any relationship less than The One True Thing. Because he could not speak, he could only show her how special she was to him. His efforts redoubled. Elsie's blood rushed through her so fast she felt light-headed, almost to the point of passing out. She reached down, tangling her fingers in his hair to anchor herself in the moment. She curled her toes into the middle of his back, trying to communicate that she'd never shared this intimacy with another man. And her memories fell far short of reality. Only with Charles was she free to be entirely open, entirely herself. There was no fear of embarrassment or shame for enjoying this venal act, or so many would have called it. Only with this trusted lover would she dare to beg for what she wanted.

"Please- oh- god, please- Faster! More!"

Even in a fugue of passion, Charles heard her and obeyed. He ratcheted up the intensity. Gentle licking became forceful tonguing. Two fingers became three.

Elsie cried out in ecstasy as she melted around him. They were completely connected. They needed only one body and one voice.

"Yes! Oh, fu- oh, god- oh, fuck! Now! N- N- Now! Yes!"

Her orgasm exploded through her, resonating in him. He raised his head to breathe but still gently rubbed her wetness, extending her climax.

Breathing raggedly, she managed to ask in a hoarse whisper, "Are you hard again?".

Charles realized that he was. He kissed her hip and nodded. "Hand me a condom," he requested breathlessly.

"No."

He looked up at her with questioning eyes.

"It's my turn," she informed him.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I don't," Elsie agreed with a seductive smile. She wanted to tell him they were as equal in the bedroom as in other aspects of their lives. She wanted him to know she found joy in giving pleasure as well as receiving. Instead of speaking, Elsie bit her lower lip and then licked it seductively. Charles understood immediately and grinned.

With one finger, she beckoned to him to rejoin her at the top of the bed. Charles accepted her invitation eagerly. He crawled up and buried his face in her neck, nibbling and sucking all along the way. She enjoyed his attentions only briefly before pushing him onto his back.

"I want every inch of you in every way possible," she told him possessively. The way she emphasized the word 'inch' made his toes tingle. She reached down and snapped the elastic on his shorts.

"Ouch!" he mock pouted.

"Off. Now," she commanded.

He complied with alacrity and lay vulnerable before her. Elsie's mouth began exploring the salty expanse of his body; first his chest and then lower and lower. Her hand played between his legs with informed confidence. Though twenty years had passed, she still knew exactly how to drive him to the edge.

Charles didn't know exactly what she was doing to him, he only knew how wonderful it felt. He groaned and his hips jolted involuntarily. He was only vaguely aware that he now lay on his side rather than his back. Elsie did not tease him too long before getting to the point. Grabbing his ass with one hand and rubbing his length with the other, Elsie guided him into her mouth. She sucked gently at first but increased her intensity quickly. She knew there would not be much time once she'd begun in earnest.

"Els- ah -oo -oo -oh! God!" Charles provided a full-throated accompaniment to their joint pleasure. He held nothing back, knowing the nearest inhabited building sat at least half a mile away.

"Gah! Uh- uh- ah," he panted. His half words became half grunts. He resisted her siren song for as long as he could, mentally he listed the batting orders for the 1981 3rd Test at Headlingly. He was through England and just starting the middle order of the Australian side when he was overwhelmed by his need to erupt.

"Sto- stop- 'm gonna- uh- uh-" He tapped at her shoulder, trying to warn her. He couldn't hold back much longer. She didn't want him to. She ran a fingernail in a small circle on a most sensitive spot. His end came suddenly and forcefully, but she was prepared. She moved away at the perfect moment and he spilled himself into the sheets beside her cheek. She wiped him quickly before returning to licking and sucking him off through the aftershocks.

"I- oh, god, Els," Charles gasped for air as the last drop left him.

With one last kiss Elsie climbed up to meet him at the headboard. His arms encircled her. Her head tucked neatly beneath his chin. They shared a contented sigh.

 **END M-rated segment.**

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 **AN/ This was more explicit than my normal M-rated stuff. I blame Thanksgiving;)  
**


	23. Part Twenty-three

"That- that was just… wow," he praised her when his breath returned.

"Mmhm," she agreed. With her cheek resting against one side of his chest Elsie watched her hand slowly open and close on the other side. Her fingertips trailed lazily on his skin. They half dozed contentedly.

"I've never slept in a king bed before," he mused blissfully.

"You still haven't," she teased.

"Regardless, I like the extra room," he chuckled. "I could get used to this."

"Are you threatening to move in with me?" Elsie jested sleepily.

"What? No!" Charles exclaimed. "I was just-"

"Relax," she interrupted. She patted his chest soothingly. "I was only joking."

"That's quite something to joke about," he said with a relieved breath.

"Don't tell me you haven't considered it," Elsie prodded. "As part of the long-term plan?"

"Perhaps," he admitted. "I mean, two people who spend as much time together as we will be… It doesn't make sense for us both to maintain independent residences."

"It's all about efficiency then?" Elsie asked archly.

"And conservation," he insisted cheekily.

"For the sake of the environment I have to take you into my house as well as my bed?" She tried to sound scandalized but ended up laughing.

"And because we love each other," Charles added.

"Oh, yes, there is that," she smiled. "When are you moving in?"

"We don't have to rush," he assured her.

"I suppose we should at least have our first date."

"And it doesn't have to be here at Yew Tree," he allowed. "My place is too small, but when I told Mum about us, she offered the butler's cottage. Though I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"I wouldn't want to displace her, but Robert would probably be happy to have us there," Elsie speculated.

"I'm sure he would be," Charles said bitterly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"If I ever move back into the butler's cottage, it's over," Charles pouted. "I could never leave Downton. I'd feel too obligated to the family."

"Why would you leave?" Elsie was shocked. "I'm here now."

"You're here _now,_ " Charles echoed. "But, eventually, you'll be offered an opportunity that you won't want to pass up. Regardless of our feelings, love, Yorkshire is too small for you and your talents."

"But I can be happy here," she insisted.

"I want to believe that," he said with a note of sadness. "And I'll do everything in my power to make you happy, but it isn't fair. I can't expect you to change your life for me if I'm not willing to change for you."

"I appreciate that, love, but let's be honest; one of us is better at accepting change than the other," she said sweetly.

Charles smiled wryly. She wasn't wrong.

She raised up to look him directly in the eyes. "You really think you could leave Downton for me?"

"I know I could," he answered sincerely. "I've been looking for an opportunity for years."

"What would you do if we moved to another country?" She wondered.

"I wouldn't be bored," Charles claimed. "I could expand my consulting business or write a column for Decanter or write a book."

Elsie smiled at him lovingly. He had clearly given this some thought.

"I do know one thing," he said with a grin. "I wouldn't mind being the one sending the postcards for a change."

"I'll buy the stamps," Elsie promised. Content with his answer she relaxed and lay down once more in the shelter of his arms. Again, her hand lay on his chest. A thought occurred to her as she watched his hand come up to cover hers. Their fingers entwined.

"Do you ever worry?" She asked.

Charles was momentarily confused until she flexed her fingers between his. "About the shaking?"

"Yes."

"No," he said simply. "I did once, but not anymore."

"What changed?"

"I talked to Richard. He was Da's physician and he knew about the family ailment," Charles shared. "A few years back we sent my blood out for DNA testing."

"You can do that?"

"You can, but it's expensive and NHS won't cover it," he complained. "But the peace of mind was worth it."

"What did it tell you?"

"That I do have the genetic markers for palsy."

"What's so reassuring about that?" Elsie wondered.

"We know exactly what it is. It's a relatively benign condition and there's medication to help with the shaking when the time comes," he assured her. "Best of all, it's not linked to anything else like Parkinson's or MS."

"What about your father's strokes? They weren't part of the palsy?"

"Da smoked since he was fourteen," Charles said offhandedly. "That would have precipitated his strokes as much as anything."

Elsie could hear the calm in his voice and yet she still worried.

"It will probably be twenty years before I have any symptoms," Charles soothed. "New treatment options may be found by then. Even if I can't stop the shaking, it won't end my professional life the way it did for my Da and his Da before him. They might not let me decant the ten thousand pound bottle of Burgundy, but I can still research it and present it."

"Sounds as though you've done your due diligence," Elsie allowed. "I'll try not to worry."

"That's the best thing for it," Charles said bracingly. "Stress can make the symptoms worse, so I try not to stress about it."

"Then I'll do the same," she pledged. "And, as you said, we won't have to face it until we're in our sixties. We'll deal with it then."

"You're so certain we'll be together in twenty years?" Charles asked smugly.

"Aren't you certain?" She goaded him gently.

"I've never been so sure of anything," he rumbled lowly before hugging her tightly and kissing her hairline tenderly.

TBC…

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 **AN/ I thought it would be nice to end on one of my favorite Carsonisms. He really is the romantic in this relationship.**

 **And Happy St. Andrews Day!**


	24. Part Twenty-four

**AN/ And now... a little Berylus Interruptus... because Chelsie!**

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They dozed lazily in the tangled sheets. Just as Charles was about to drop off to sleep he heard an odd sound coming from the side table.

"Is that 'Ride of the Valkyrie?'" He wondered aloud.

"It's my phone," Elsie moaned. "That will be Beryl."

"Brunnhilde herself," Charles chuckled at the appropriateness of the ringtone choice.

"I should probably answer," she said apologetically. Elsie rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed. The sheet pooled in her lap as she answered the singing phone.

"Beryl? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I wanted an update on last night," Beryl's chipper voice came through the phone. Elsie could never figure out how Beryl could manage to be a morning person considering the hours she worked. "Did you put ole Charlie in his place?"

"I did." Elsie looked over her shoulder at the naked man beside her. "In a manner of speaking…"

"Good, though honestly, the exposure has done us some good. Both Patmore's and Hughes' were fully booked last night," the chef informed her partner. "Everyone was asking about The Rose and Thistle!"

"No such thing as bad publicity," Elsie quoted sagely. "But he's going to fix it."

"You can tell me all about it when I get there."

"Wait, you're coming here? Now?" Elsie asked in a panicked voice. Charles sat up quickly and looked at her curiously.

"I'm on my way to church, but I had a few quick menu notes to check with you," Beryl informed her. "Daisy finally sat down and wrote up her opening night menu."

"Can't we look at that tomorrow? Right now isn't a good time," Elsie protested.

"I have coffee," Beryl offered cheerfully.

"I have coffee, too," Elsie rejoined.

"Why don't you want me coming over?" Beryl asked suspiciously.

"I need to get ready. Charles and I were going to drive to Whitby today. It's our official first date."

"I won't stay long," Beryl promised blithely.

"Why don't you just email me the menu?" Elsie suggested, trying to sound innocent. "I don't want you going out of your way."

Beryl didn't answer immediately. Elsie felt the tension building in the silence. "He's still there, isn't he?" Beryl surmised.

"We talked quite late and drank too much wine. It wasn't safe for him to drive home," Elsie told her friend.

Beryl did not respond to this argument, choosing not to point out that Charles could have walked home.

"He slept in the spare room," Elsie stated honestly. Charles met this statement with an accusatory raise of the eyebrow. Elsie waved at him absently.

"But did he _stay_ there?" Beryl pressed.

"What does it matter?" Elsie deflected. "On the positive side, you can tell people that Charles and I are together now if they ask."

Charles smiled broadly at this statement.

"So, you basically rewarded him for that terrible review," Beryl protested.

"It wasn't a reward," Elsie argued. "The two things are unrelated. I thought you'd be happy for us, B."

"He insulted our napkins!" Beryl spluttered.

Elsie laughed at Beryl's indignance. "That was a misunderstanding. His tablet was hacked."

"Hacked? Why would anyone want to hack Charlie's tablet?" Beryl was incredulous. "He isn't MI-6! I'm surprised he even owns a tablet."

"Maybe 'hacked' is too strong a word. He just neglected to change his password."

"Of course, he did, the git," Beryl sighed, but Elsie could hear Beryl's anger lessening. "I'll be there soon, so get your stories straight."

"Ber-"

Beryl hung up.

"What's up?" Charles inquired.

"Beryl's going to be here an minute," Elsie groused.

"Perhaps I should put my pant on," Charles joked. "Unless you want me to open the door like this."

"And be responsible for Beryl's heart attack? No, thank you," Elsie frowned. "Just… I don't know, just go into the guest room and come out after she arrives."

Charles looked troubled. "She'll be happy for us. You're not ashamed are you?"

"Not ashamed; maybe embarrassed."

"You don't have to tell her _everything_ we did," he teased with a wicked grin.

"It's not that," Elsie insisted, rolling her eyes at him. "She's just bound to be so…. _Beryl_ about it."

"I don't think she has much choice." Charles laughed. He knew exactly what Elsie meant. "But we should have to hide anything from her. Beryl's our best friend, besides each other."

"I'm not saying that I'm making any sense, Charlie," Elsie sighed. "I just don't want to face her teasing this morning. And neither do you. She's still angry with you."

"I'll fix it," he promised.

"Just go get dressed, please."

"Alright." He kissed her shoulder before he rolled over and searched for his shorts. He slipped them on as he stood. "Just like old times," he muttered.

Elsie watched him guiltily. She knew it was pointless to try and hide the truth from Beryl, but she didn't feel ready to handle Beryl just yet.

"Charlie," she called out to him as he reached the doorway. "I love you."

"Thank you," he smiled back at her wryly. "I needed that."

Elsie dressed quickly. She threw on loose yoga pants, the Jägermeister t-shirt, and her terry robe. Her goal was to look as frumpy as possible. Glancing in the mirror, she could see that she'd succeeded. Elsie hurried down the hall to the living room which she scanned for any signs of the previous night's activities. One of the sofa cushions looked flatter than usual. Elsie fluffed it hastily and replaced it just as she heard Beryl's knock. She soothed down her hair and tightened her robe sash before opening the door to her grinning friend.

"'Morning," Beryl greeted her with a singsong voice and Cheshire cat smile.

"'Morning, B," Elsie said flatly.

Beryl looked Elsie up and down. "If that's your first night seduction ensemble, we need to go shopping."

Elsie ignored her friend's comment and gestured her inside. Beryl handed Elsie a coffee cup and walked through the foyer to the living room.

"Thank you," Elsie muttered. She took a sip and could not help but smile at the taste of the hazelnut latte. This wasn't exactly what Charles had envisioned, but they were still technically on plan.

"I'd have brought something for Charlie, but…" Beryl said leadingly.

Elsie did not rise to the bait. Beryl stalked suspiciously around the living room. Finally, Elsie became agitated enough to snap at her friend. "He isn't hiding under the couch, if that's what you're looking for."

"You wouldn't hide him. His car is out front, I know he's here. You know I know he's here," Beryl pointed out. "As if he'd fit under your couch," she added under her breath.

"Then what are you looking for?" Elsie challenged.

"I'll know it when I see it," Beryl replied archly. Having found nothing obvious, Beryl settled into a chair to sip her coffee.

The door to the guest room opened noisily. Elsie braced for whatever was to come.

"Good morning, Elsie," Charles said as if seeing her for the first time that morning. "Ah, Beryl! I thought I heard voices. Good morning to you."

He was dressed impeccably. His trousers even looked freshly pressed. His collar was buttoned down. His hair was neatly combed. He looked like a school boy ready for picture day. Elsie smiled at him gratefully. Surely Beryl could find nothing amiss here.

"Where are your socks, Charlie?" Beryl asked cleverly.

To Charles' credit, he only hesitated for a second before responding, "I'm just dashing home. No need to put them on." This made no sense in context with the rest of his appearance, but it was a valiant attempt.

"So, they're in your pocket?" Beryl grilled him further.

"Well, they aren't on my feet," he tried to joke his way out of the situation.

"No. They aren't," Beryl agreed. She sat and stared daggers at Charles who began to squirm under the scrutiny.

Elsie had seen enough. It was silly and selfish of her to put Charles through this torture. She decided to put an end to it.

"I expect they're under my bed," Elsie volunteered. "Or crumpled in the sheets."

Charles and Beryl looked at Elsie with matching expressions of surprise.

"When I find them, I'll wash them and put them in your drawer," Elsie told Charles with a wink.

"I have a drawer?" He wondered hopefully.

"You'll need more than that when you move in." Elsie walked over to Charles confidently. "Good morning, love." She pulled him down for a long, lingering kiss.

"Ugh, get a room," Beryl groaned when Charles wrapped his arms around Elsie and enthusiastically returned her affection.

The happy couple ignored Beryl's protestations and finished their kiss. Elsie smiled up at Charles and asked, "Now, why didn't we think of that?"

"You mean a room? All to ourselves?" Charles joined her sarcastic teasing. "We should look into that."

"Do you know what? I think I might have one! Indeed, I might have a whole house where we could have some privacy and not be bothered by people inviting themselves over." She glared pointedly at Beryl.

Beryl looked properly chastened for a brief moment, but recovered almost immediately. "I'm only here because we have to fix the mess Charlie created."

"I'll fix it," Charles promised again. "Just tell Daisy to expect a five top of VIPs Thursday night."

"Five?" Elsie asked.

"Me and Mum, Robert and Cora, and the critic who will be replacing me."

"Who's the critic?" Beryl inquired eagerly.

"That would be telling," Charles answered with a wink.

Beryl fumed at him. Before the cook could start in on Charles, Elsie stepped in.

"Do you want any coffee, Charles?"

"No, I should be going. I need to prepare a few things for today."

"I could use a refill," Beryl interjected, holding out her cup.

Elsie glowered at her for a moment. "Well, you did bring me my latte," Elsie shrugged and took the cup. "I'll see you later," she confirmed with Charles.

"Half past ten on the button," he promised eagerly. He kissed Elsie's cheek before she exited to the kitchen. He turned towards the door and found his way blocked by Beryl.

"Sit, Charlie," Beryl ordered. "I want to look you in the eye for this."

He took a deep breath as he obeyed. Charles assumed he knew what was coming.

When they were eye to eye, Beryl leaned in towards him menacingly. "I just want you to know, if you break her heart again…" Beryl let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a moment before finishing. "So help me, I'll hunt you down and cut off your-"

"Stop!" Charles interrupted her. "Honestly, Beryl, that won't be necessary. I'm not as stupid as I was back then."

"Debatable," Beryl rejoined sardonically. "You're already moving in? You'd better be sure."

Charles became still and serious. "I love her, Beryl. I am happy and tickled and bursting with pride that she would agree to give me another chance. And I want us to live as closely as two people can for the time that remains to us on earth."

"Well, you can't say any fairer than that," Beryl said kindly. She patted his cheek encouragingly. "You'd better shave before this first date. You're scruffy."

"I plan to." He stood to leave and grinned down at his friend. Now that she wasn't bristling at him, she was much less intimidating. "Thank you, Beryl, for looking out for her."

"I'm looking out for both of you," she informed him.

"Then, again, thank you." He gave her a friendly hug as Elsie returned to the room.

"Back off, Beryl," Elsie teased. "You've already got Alfred. You don't need Charlie too."

"He came on to me!" Beryl laughed. "Can I help it if I have a magnetic personality?"

"Is that what you call it?" Elsie jabbed.

"Ladies, ladies!" Charles spoke in an exaggeratingly patronizing tone. "There's plenty of me to go around." He reached out and pulled Elsie into the embrace along with Beryl.

"Truer words," Beryl stage whispered to Elsie and the three friends all burst out laughing.

For a moment, they all felt twenty years younger and as though they were back in London. But they were soon reminded of how things had changed for the better when they broke apart and Charles kissed Elsie goodbye. Elsie watched him leave with a fond smile on her face. Beryl's heart rejoiced to see how happy her friends were. Still, she felt a responsibility to them both.

"Elsie," Beryl drew her friend's attention away from happy speculation about the impending first date and back to the present. "Before we discuss the menu, I want to ask you something very serious."

"Alright."

"Are you committed to this? To Charlie?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I know how much he hurt you. And you'd only be human if you wanted to hurt him back, but… If you hurt him, Elsie…"

"I won't."

"How can you know?"

"We're more mature now. We can talk about things we couldn't before," Elsie informed her friend. "We aren't going to let misunderstandings and insecurities keep us apart anymore."

Beryl stared blankly at Elsie, daring her to say more.

"I love him, Beryl. And he loves me. I won't hurt him."

"But if you do, you'll answer to me."

The two women stared each other down. Neither flinched for almost a full minute. Finally, Elsie smiled. "That's as it should be."

TBC…

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 **AN/ I haven't been replying to reviews the past few chapters due to Holiday season demands, but I do read them and love them dearly. People said they're looking forward to the date. Truth be told, I wasn't planning to give too many details about the first date. They're going hiking and having dinner. I'll flesh out a little more, but I'm really trying to wrap up this story soon.**

 **What? WHAT? Stop laughing at me, I mean it this time ;)**

 **Happy Chanukkah!**


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